Service with a Smile
It is amazing watching the changes here in 2 years. Lots of my friends complain that nothing changes, but in my experience this complaint seems to be a human quality that I often notice in Americans, when in fact, lots of things are changing.
Three of the greatest changes that I have noticed have been: more reliable and complete city services (water, roads, trash collection, police); a burst of small enterprises and remodelings; and a greater attention to service.
We had a winetasting at a restaurant. It was amazing. The waiters and chefs had uniforms, clean and pressed, complete with aprons. There was proper wine service, proper plating, proper silverwear service, and excellent food. This experience has been repeated at least twice at different places in the last few months.
Attendants in stores (usually after they know you) will sometimes refuse to sell you goods that you can see in the cases. At first this bothered me, so one day I asked why not (I have found that I have become a bit more forward when I speak Ukrainian). She said the yoghurt was bad, but the manager makes them keep it out. I have come to appreciate these, not always cheerful, but friendly intercessions on my shopping behalf.
At a kiosk between platforms in the Lviv train station, I was blown away by the customer service. The woman was quick, attentive and friendly and then she tried to up sell! I never thought I would be so impressed by an attempt to up sell.
At a school in town they keep a security guard in uniform at the front. I was stopped, cordially, and asked where I was going. Even though I was wearing a suit, it pleased me to be stopped. Now he recognizes me and says hello. (to some of you reading, this may seem strange, but in Florida all the schools have at least one police officer on duty. I tend to think of it as orderly.)
There is UPS in Ukraine, and they wear uniforms (still very rare) and the service was very professional (long story – but I was a bit afraid that I would have to pay a bribe. In all fairness, I think I have paid under the table only twice, both times to train conductors, and I have never been asked for a bribe, though I have heard many stories. I like to think this is another example of improvement. Corruption is still a big problem here, or so I am told.)
And then there are the things that I, unbelievably, don’t find strange anymore:
Passing money on a bus from person to person, up to the driver
Everyone carrying plastic (usually Boss) bags with all there things in them. You don’t see many
brief cases or backpacks.
The water stops every day at night, sometimes in the day. I have learned to plan on it.
And the things I may always:
Buying meat at the market
Telling the bus driver to stop, orally from the back of the bus
Trying to make a withdrawal and finding the bank doesn’t have the right change. (lots of people do
business in dollars here, in fact, as a foreigner I think the national bank requires me to keep
my account in dollars, but sometimes the bank doesn’t have any; this comment doesn’t refer only to dollars, though).
My Impressions of Mike's time here
I just found my thoughts on my friend Mike’s trip. They had gotten lost somewhere in the holiday shuffle:
My friend that I have not seen for 6 years came to visit me. It was great, but a bit rushed – completely my fault- because I tried to show him too much. While he was here, he mentioned how often his friends try to change him – to convince him to shave his head into a faux-hawk (very popular in Europe now) or buy fancy French underwear (he just finished a semester in Paris) and I thought what a shame that they couldn’t let him be himself. Later I realized that I also tried to change him.
Certainly, a big part of our visit was catching up on more than can be explained easily in our letters, but also I wanted him to “see” Eastern Europe for all its glory and misgivings. We spent two days in Krakow and two in my town. I, also, didn’t want him to leave the same as he had come, but somehow I felt my purpose was greater – what a hypocrite.
I kept making contingency plans while he was here, but (except for my meeting him at the airport) everything went truly fabulously. I had some hiccups getting back from Lviv (where I put him on the bus back to Krakow) but nothing really unexpected. I got home early in the morning, washed, dressed, put my student’s papers together with my lessons and rushed off to school, pretty proud that nothing had been upset in the order of the last 5 days. Then, just as we are about to start the first class, an Assistant Principal comes in and says, “Sorry Mr. Sheetz, but the inspectors have come from Lviv and I need this class to take a test. You won’t have lesson with them today.” The class says, “NOW?!” amidst groans; the AP says, “Now!” in that classic emphatic Ukrainian that I may actually miss, even for all its snideness; and then she ways to me, “and so it is in Ukraine.”
PS. All poles seem to have distinct British accents to me, but while in Poland, I met two Brits on my way to the very impressive salt mine of Krakow, who thought that I was Polish, although I was talking to them in English.
Beauty in Strange Ways
Some things here are so beautiful, it is emotionally moving.
They sell these BIG, beautiful mushrooms at the bazaar in the fall. They carry them there in these beautiful wicker baskets, all propped upright. To see an old grandma with kerchief walking in their strained but independent way, carrying this beautifully arranged, earth-toned basket and contents is special.
On Easter, they have a tradition in the villages to start the church service around midnight, but everyone really starts showing up around 4, just before the ski starts to brighten. Each family lines up around the church in very orderly lines, opens up little picnic spreads, lights a candle, and waits at attention (more or less). The sight of 500 candles softly illuminating colored eggs, fresh baked cakes, homemade wine, sausage, honey, and the quietly whispering faces is also very special.
One day, at my tutoring session, I was reading a children’s book in Ukrainian verse, and my host mom started to cry. I think she had had some other things bothering her, but when I asked, she said it was just so special to hear me reciting in Ukrainian. (Ukrainians seem to find my mistakes as endearing as when I get things right).
The following is a poem written by Michelle Goldhaber, a Fulbright student in Lviv, who just came back from an intensive training course in the US Southwest:
The desert and the sea miss each other. The desert soaks up water and the sea kisses the sand. But sometimes the desert coughs and spits up rain, And the sea, twice a day, runs away from the shore.
Every once in awhile I see some picture and I think it is a perfect snapshot of the circumstances, a masterpiece in its simplicity, in its brevity and wit. I want to put it on a postcard, but it could never be contained in such a common format
Random Thoughts VI
This is a weird one. I couldn’t clean it up to much; it is rather unwieldy and there are lots of strange and messy ironies, or maybe even contradictions. Take it for whatever it might be worth. I apologize in advance if anyone finds anything “disappointing.” I think I was in a weird mood when I wrote most of these, and I will censor myself if you let me know where.
Because I have all these thoughts and I had no one to share them with here, I was always making notes. I fit right in. Almost all Ukrainians always carry small notebooks and I use mine excessively. I write new words, phrases, observations, thoughts, games, ideas for youth development.
Ukrainians tend to name things more by material than by the use, unlike Americans. For example, borsht is NOT to be confused with soup; although borscht usually has beets, it doesn’t necessarily and this is about the only difference I see between it and soup. A shallow bowl, if made of metal is called a myshka (little mixer), if made of porcelain it is a tarilka (plate), even if their shape and size are identical. A shirt if not made of silk or some other button-down shirt material is called a footbalka, which translates as t-shirt. A polo shirt falls into this category and is therefore considered less formal than a short sleeve, silky shirt, with outrageous patterns on it. These, along with the not so outlandish ones, are called sorochka, or shirts.
At the cemetery, all the graves are in chronological order; in hindsight, how are ours not? The exception is that the past mayors are at the front (sometimes Ukrainians have very common words for surnames, in fact one of the past mayors last name was the dialect word here for Potato). If a husband and wife really want to be buried together and the family hasn’t bought the adjoining plot to hold, then they bury one on top of the other. I also can’t figure out where do we bury our dead in Florida? We should have lots of graveyards, but I can only remember ever even seeing one, in South Florida.
Everything in life is so relative. In the summer, the pool attendants criticized my swim shorts. Everyone else is in speedo’s and they didn’t think mine looked like a bathing suit, and wanted me to go change. I assured them that it was a bathing suit.
Over the course of my time here, the most common question asked of me has changed from, “Are you sad (asked just that open-endedly)?” to, “Could you manager here?” to “Isn’t it better here?” And now I get about equally, “Aren’t you going to stay?” or “Aren’t you glad to be going home?”
Since they were given occupation of their apartments during Soviet times and then were given ownership of them at its end, many people have lived in same apartment or home their whole life. There is a real estate market, but very little on it, which makes most of it very expensive, and robs the Ukrainians of equity and credit for the most part.
I found my name on an announcemet for a credit card offer in my main school’s teachers’ room. I must have really made it “in” as a Ukrainian teacher. Very few people here have credit cards.
I had some old International Affairs magazine that I was reading a year and a half after publication. I was a bit shocked and appalled to find several issues, such as Darfur, still timely.
Did I ever write about the second incident with my pickpocket? Well, there was another volunteer with me the day that I was pickpocketed, and she saw me question the guy. Well she saw the same guy in a funny situation a few days later. Then a few months later, she was pickpocketed by the same guy! She went to the police, and they said, ‘yeah, we know Sasha, but we can’t catch him unless he takes more that $500 worth.’ Something smells fishy.
Why does it seem that the Asians feel/ remember across generations and Western countries and South Korea do not. I think it comes from the cultural spectrum of individualism versus collectivism. More collectivist societies propogate thoughts and memories more effectively across generations. Individiulaists are encouraged to form their own opinions, and so when factors have changed substantially, generations may have very different perceptions of reality. Blia what are your thoughts? (This thought was inspired by several articles I had been reading that alluded to how Japan remembers WW2 better than Korean youth remember the Korean war)
(this, as most of these, was written at least 8 months ago) If my country would mind its own business in general world affairs, and as a result that meant that we packed up PC, which I think is a very worthwhile program, then I would go home without question. It gets harder and harder to understand why I am here the more that I learn Ukrainian culture (maybe the more I become Ukrainian and the less American). I don’t think I would trust me.
Responses to Culture
So, I have sat on this blog for 9 months. That is an awfully long time. I feel for all the mother’s out there, in a way that makes me realize that I will never really understand your pain. I was actually about to delete this blog this week, but rereading it, I think I have made some good points, and since my readership has declined, I’ve decided to post it.
Here are the rules:
1) It is a slightly angry post, in response to several comments to my blog called Exclusion and dated 5/16. You may (or may not) want to reread the blog and comments. I did delete the first part of my response below because I felt that it was whiny and rambling, so it now has an abrupt start that takes a few minutes to gather speed. This post is long.
2) I have noted the people to whom I am responding at the beginning of the section. Their words appear in quotes.
3) You can probably sum up all of these exchanges in the following anecdote, and therefore, you may want to stop reading this post at the end of this point: The other day I was teaching a lesson designed to get my students thinking about what is culture and what they appreciate about their own. The homework is for them to write a poem about the sensory perceptions that define Ukrainian-ness. We read a model in class about what it is to be a Latino. Just before the class ended as I was explaining the task and how I want to feel what it is like to be a Ukrainian when I read their homeworks, I was asked if I wanted to be a Ukrainian. I said that I did, but that in America we believe that you can be fully two nationalities at once, but when I learned that this is not possible in Ukraine (which they started to mumble as soon as I got the first part out), I didn’t really want to be Ukrainian anymore.
4) If you are reading on, but you get bogged down, skip to the end because there is a conclusion.
Response to KT
…People are constantly telling me how I am Ukrainian– almost, or how I need to marry or never leave, how this is the best country, the best food, the best ice cream (they are bliss in their ignorance on this last one in particular). They often ask me to pick my favorite country (after many conversations, I now know that Ukraine is the 20th country I have visited, however 11 of those were only one city, one time), I always say that of everywhere I have visited including the 4 states I have called home and all the others I have visited there are good places and bad, good things and things that could be better. This always leaves people with thoughtful but unsatisfied looks, like I have checkmated them and they think, “it can’t be; there must be another way.” The hardest part as I said is that they really want me to choose Ukraine, but I don’t.
Why you ask? I think because my cultural literacy is a different brand. I am learning theirs, almost painfully quickly, and I can value it, but I like mine.
That I know what an m&m tastes like makes me an American? I’m sure there are Americans that don’t know. However, almost all Ukrainians do. Did you ask your friend how common they are where she comes from? What is culturally American anyway? We share almost all of what is truly “American” with the world; we are excellent at exporting it. I see there point; they all have everything that we think of as “American,” so what is so special. So we are seen as culturally devoid or that it was never really ours to begin with. And if these friends had decided to stay in the USA, you would still never think of them as American? I won’t ever get a conversation about Saturday night live, does that make me un-American? Also, I am sure you don’t constantly ask, or comment on how much better it would be if your friends stayed in America.
“Her childhood sand-skiing experiences make her different from most Americans and those differences, added up, mean she will never be American. “ Why, does it mean that?!
As Americans we have a difficulty in understanding the very real difference between nation and state. We use them synonymously. We really don’t have a nation, but we have a culture. I agree with Scoot that this is our greatest strength. Fundamental to our culture is an embracing of all things different, or at least a general interest to give them a shot. If you love the state (technically, the political country, or here the USA), then you are a part of our nation, and we will embrace your cultural differences.
I agree that these themes can be reinforced or diluted by the effects of subcultures. You were not a part of the South or the North, being from Florida, and that may make us feel both more cut off from a general American culture and also more willing to accept the differences that were widespread in the society where we grew up. However, I think that you could be adopted by either of these cultures if you chose; people would always comment that you weren’t that way from birth, but only if they knew it to be so. If by all outward signs you fit in, I don’t think that anyone would give it any second thought, or ask you about it. When they did find out that you learned the culture later than they did, I don’t think it would make a difference in their mind.
I think that is all that culture is – nurture, not nature. We all have to learn it. Some learn better than others and they are more successful in the society, some learn later than others as immigrants but we all learn it, and none of us know it completely 100%.
"I think a person's experiences are a major part of their selves and will always affect future social experiences and relationships. Maybe the big difference between the US and Ukraine is the closeness I can have with my friend from Dubai, despite our differences? Is that what you mean by acceptance?"
No that isn’t what I mean, but it does illuminate two great differences between the US and Ukraine. First, until you experience it first hand it is hard to imagine the uniformity here. There is very little natural diversity in the culture here, from food to language to religion. Yes everyone’s borsht tastes a little different, and yes there are even some that don’t like it, but EVERY SINGLE person has had borsht, many times. And they share most of their culture in that way. I witnessed a conversation where two teachers were shocked that they cooled their varenyky (dumplings) in different ways. Differences were further discouraged in the Soviet Union, and the government made quite an effort to kill them all; they even had the foresight to move people across countries to make different subcultures mix. They were very effective. So the differences in experience and background that we all acknowledge in America as normal, is a difference. This could be taken a bit further to say that assimilating into a more homogeneous culture should be easier. In fact, rather often now, I know history, current knowledge and traditions, and the reasons behind them better than many Ukrainians I interact with. Many times people have commented on my command of Ukrainian by saying how Russians (not a loved minority in this part of the country) have lived here for so long and still can’t speak Ukrainian (by the way, I know some “Russians” but not any that can’t speak Ukrainian). Perhaps as I alluded to in the first post, this is part of the reason for Ukrainians' reactions; they have spent so many millennia fending off the cultures of others that they are nervous to let other people into theirs now.
Second, and again maybe it is my own naivety (the fact that I have mentioned my naivety both to a Ukrainian and to an American while discussing this idea here, suggests a validity that I don’t want to give it), but I believe personal experiences are an important part of a person, but I don’t think their history has any effect on their future. If someone came to the USA (or Quebec, from what I have read in the paper), and accepted all the things that meant being part of that culture, I would consider them American (or Quebecian- sp?). I consider it part of the American dream, perhaps part of democracy, to be able to remake yourself into the image that you think is best, to follow your heart. If that led me to Ukraine or to the USA, I had never before thought that someone wouldn’t accept that decision. To me, it shows as much respect to WANT to abandon one way of life for another. And again, maybe this is what gives Ukrainians pause- they don’t want to vest such high respect on the USA and Canada, that would be warranted for how many of their brethren are so eager to run to these countries which they view as culturally, spiritually or culinary-ily decrepit.
As for Scoot
I don't believe that Americans hold the only capability for accepting foreigners.
"The thing that i find interesting is that there are some places where one might be considered American, even though they are NOT. For example the upper classes in India, they speak english fluently, watch American TV and movies, eat American food, and even work for companies like Intel with engineering degrees from American schools. Are these people Americans even though they hold a different Passport?”
Again maybe this will be the distinguishing feature between me and all my readers, (because many people have made the comment that your make below to me, in emails and conversation), but I would consider them American in effect. They look to me, for all intensive purposes, as ex-pat’s.
"I also find it interesting that you thought you might be accepted as Ukrainian. Obviously, given the above, i understand why. But in every country i have travelled (except Canada), i always felt like there were natives and foreigners. I have a friend who lived in Thailand for many years, spoke Thai fluently. But was never accepted, people continued to speak english to him. His white skin stood out too much.”
But my physical features don’t stick out at all, and in fact, in casual interactions, such as with postal workers or shop keepers, there have been a few that have been very surprised when I tell them that I am not Ukrainian (though these are generally the less observant ones, based on their work).
In conclusion,
A few months back when I was returning to the USA for a wedding. I was wished well on my return home. I said that yes my friends and family are there, but they are spread all over the country, and I miss them, but I really feel like home for me now, is here. I guess, it wouldn’t feel that way without some true acceptance into the community, and maybe that means I do have it, and maybe that means it is something that Ukrainians can give but never admit.
First Impressions II – Mike Volk’s comments
I good scout friend of mine from high school came to visit me in December. Here are his thoughts; I did read these first, but I did not edit.
Alright. Its not lack of wanting to add something to the general body of knowledge about John Sheetz, his peace corps experience, and those of everyone who visited, but more a matter of mood and time. I think that it is good for me to process this experience a little after the fact. Feel free to edit or delete or not include anything that you want, I think it is naturally going to ramble a little and be a little stream of consciousness, and I didn't worry much about grammar or sentence structure.
Of course whenever I have spent time in another culture it has been a broadening experience. It takes work to be understanding of a bus system where the buses don't leave on a schedule, but when they are full. Even though I can see the logic, from my experience, this means that you don't know exactly when you are going to arrive at your destination- which is a frustrating thing for an American with things to do.
I had been living with a family in Paris before I came to visit John in Ukraine, and we noticed how one becomes more perceptive (by survival necessity) of the significance of the actions and words of people around you using a different language. It was interesting that after struggling to understand the French, I could begin to understand the general emotion or significance of the conversations in Ukrainian. I think this could fall under the category of a life skills- attention and perceptiveness to the thoughts, needs, and ideas of others, perhaps taking a little focus off of oneself. Of course, I have not even the beginning of a chance to understand Cyrillic writing [editor’s note: not as difficult as it looks, ask my parents]. It feels similar to swimming out in the open ocean- you're out of your element, and you realize that the world is a much bigger place and that you are a very small part.
Still there are things that make you feel that the world is small on occasion, as well. It is well worth it to visit Eastern Europe; it is strangely similar and different from Western Europe all at the same time. Visiting John was exceptional. I knew that we would have a lot to catch up on, and I looked forward to the things that I knew we could talk about- in English- for a long time. As Sando wrote in his blog entry, it is exceptional that someone can spend 2 years of life in which every action is devoted towards the betterment of someone else. I can see that this level of devotion is difficult from visiting John, and I think that he will be glad to come home, but I think that he will find his experience was worth doing (for him and the Ukrainians), and I know that I will continue to gain from it.
[editor’s notes: I am going to tack on a few of Sando’s thoughts that have been floating around since last year:
The toilet paper rolls have no inner tube
the ice IS slippery
the Kyiv escalators are very fast and they still take 5 minutes
you need a passport to exchange traveller's checques
they put shops in the walking underpasses.]
Random Thoughts V
Ira, I will be catching up on my trips to Taize soon.
For now, everyone, the first snows of real winter have set in. I am about to head off to the closing conference that we have 4 months before we leave country. I can't believe that I am already up to that. It looks like I may start a project or two more, but I am mostly wrapping up - trying to pass things off effectively to Ukrainians so that they continue. I have started job interviews. So here are some random thoughts that I have been collecting since the last post last year.
PS. I didn't get this off before that conference. I have just come back; today was the first day that I have spent not in the constant company of another American since December 24 (excluding just 1 day within that time!) which means, I'm scared. The last few months were great, actually phenomenal, but also rather overwhelming. If that comes from being around just a few or even one American, how am I going to deal with 300 million of them. I really am a bit afraid of coming home; however, I was also afraid of going to this conference and that turned out to be exquisite (it did involve the best powder skiing I have ever seen, and the most truly intercultural experience that I could imagine - neither of which I had been expecting. The Ukrainians said it was the best one in the last few years).
Ukrainians have borrowed the word “chef”; it means boss.
I tried to help someone call the US State Department to ask some questions and the people on the phone were HORRIBLE to deal with. I was so dissappointed. I figured this is my country and my language, and I thought it would be easier... and that they might be nicer.
An aquaintance called me from Iraq awhile ago. He could tell me very little about where he was and what he was doing. It is hard for me to leave out place names sometimes. I want to tell you all so much; it must be really difficult for the morale of military men and women that they cannot share their lives with their loved ones.
I asked my sister to send me the Macarena because I thought it would be very popular here. Turns out it was. Already had been here and gone before me.
I have to periodically stop in and speak with the school director that is my primary site. We usually have interesting conversations, but I almost always must have at least 50 grams (a shot) of vodka or brandy at these meetings.
At first, I didn't notice the silence from never hearing sirens here. Now, I here them more often, and I love it. It reminds me that someone is doing there job.
The color negative (as in a photo negative) of the flag of Ukraine is still the flag of Ukraine just upside down.
Ukrainans usually change into the same clothes that they like to wear around the house, whenever they come home. They are comfortable, but rather informal. I like to endearingly refer to them as their "home uniforms."
Here when you ask what someone's grandparents do, a common answer is, "They are pensioners." It must say something that being a pensioner is a job.
The table of contents is always at the end of the book.
The words for North and South translate as half-night and half-day.
The towns cast virtually no ambient light here, which makes it a bit scary to walk some places, but makes the star viewing incredible.
Health and Death - Of all my direct acquaintances since I have come to Ukraine, only one has died. Of all my indirect acquaintances who have died, since I have been here, which have been many, only one has been female.
The institutes, colleges, and (to a slightly lesser degree) universities here prepare the students specifically for 1 job, almost like on-the-job training.
$2 bills (yes dollars; they are a common site around these parts) are only slightly rarer than $1 bills.
