When it rains, it pours.
So last week we get a letter that said we will have an inspection by the health department. It has been explained to me that these meetings always end in the director paying a fine, but none the less, we worked like crazy the three days before to try to make everything as spotless as possible. As you can imagine, that lasts about 20 minutes with 20 boys running around. It has also turned very unseasonably, but very pleasantly, warm. Where last week we were playing ice hockey, now we are playing soccer, but the mud factor is incredible.
The night before the inspection, a young man of my age, just across the street from us, in a village of 800 (this is a corrected figure from an early blog), shot himself in the head. He is unmarried but employed. The director was woken up in the middle of the night to ask if he can drive the corpse to a hospital in our van. Think: no police, no hospital, no ambulance for at least 5 miles of dirt roads, and rather few cars in the area. This tragedy has the whole village buzzing. May his soul rest in peace.
The next day, the inspectors arrive – there are 7 of them! I was expecting 2 or 3, 4 at the most, in a country that loves committees, but I find out that not only will we pay a fine, but we are expected to feed them a nice lunch (better than we normally eat; but this I expected) and send them home with goody bags full of shampoo and coffee and things. This blows my mind. We get these products via humanitarian aid from Germany. No one can tell me why so many have come, but I think it is probably because we are one of their inspections most worth their while. It also flabbergasts me how much paperwork is needed and everyone is rushing around to fill in the gaps for the months that they haven’t been doing the work. The cooks are flustered on whether to number the pages on the top or the bottom. And yet we all still expect to be fined anyway.
Oh, by the way, the director had to go to Lviv (2 hours away) this day, and a police man finally shows up from somewhere to ask one of the cooks some questions. Turns out that she is a rather distant relation to the unfortunate young man. The police man probably had to question half the village.
The next day, turns out that the day worker, the school director, AND the orphanage director have to be other places all day long. These three people along with me and one of the religious order’s brothers are the principle care-takers of the boys. The brother has to go to daily mass in the morning, 5 miles away, and then he has to go to the village church for the funeral at 11 am (because the young man’s grandmother helps us out sometimes, and it would not be good if we didn’t have a presence, even though they have to call to their superior to make sure that they can attend a mass for a suicide, which the local priest has found some loophole to provide). This leaves me to get the boys up, dressed, and through their morning prayers after which the cook helps me to get them fed and to their classes (both cooks came in for the inspection; they have more than a minor role in the child rearing).
On top of all this, it turns out that a group of the Germans, that organize the humanitarian aid, are coming; and they don’t speak English (or Russian or Ukrainian)! There is another shuffling to figure out what we will feed them. They are on a tight schedule so I have to take the boys out of classes to accommodate them; which later turned out unnecessary. Because it is so warm, everyone has been burning the fields and dry wood in preparation for the spring seeding. I come out of trying to converse with the Germans (luckily an American priest that is affiliated with the order has come with them and speaks a bit of German) to find that some of the older kids have lit our soccer field on fire to clear some tall grass, and then they went back to class, and now the little kids are trying to light other things on fire with the embers. This all happened in about 20 minutes. I round them up for lunch (which is why I was with the Germans; I needed to know when they were clearing out of the kitchen), and they all run for the van that Germans are getting into. Imagine 10 boys, 10 or younger, twisting every knob, pressing every button, opening every compartment, bag or container and generally running amuck. You can’t yell at them while the Germans are engaged (and enchanted because they hadn’t seen the fire) with some of them. So I just keep taking one out of the car and sending him shuffling towards the kitchen, while another takes his spot in the car. After about 10 minutes of this, the Germans have had enough, I get a bit firmer, and off everyone goes. The school director and the other brother show up about this time, and I all but check out.
At some point in here, I struggle to translate the title of this blog to the cook. Pour is not the word that they use while referring to heavy rain. This is not a usual couple of days. Usually, my life feels more like the movie “Groundhog Day”. Did I say that before?
Thoughts of summer
These are more old notes but centered around Backroads and my summer in Italy or my trip back home. As far as the weather here now, it has been most unusually warm. Sometimes we get several inches of snow, but then it all melts. It has been mostly VERY wet, and right after the snow, rather icy, so rather unpleasant, but it keeps us all thinking of spring. Besides, I’ll take mud over minus (Celsius) any day.
“I sat at the dog park today, in Florence, waiting for a friend. I couldn’t help imagining what life would be like if people greeted as dogs do.
“Then I went to the main Florence electronics shop. Several people around town had recommended it as the place to go. Above the door the sign proudly stated that they first opened in 1876. What were they selling then?! I was trying to get a battery for my 5 year old cell phone. This was apparently my last chance. The bad news was they, too, no longer carried it. The good news, they said, was how amazing it is to have lasted so long.
“When I finished with Backroads, I thought how peculiar that I out of all the people I had met, I gave my blog to only one couple. I think I only gave my email to 7 people, out of all my guests and coworkers. On my beautiful, solitary last bike ride in Tuscany, I realized that Backroads’ main product is the sale of the well-balanced habits of its leaders. We sacrifice our normal balance for the week, so that you can have more in your lives, for that time. You eat right, sleep enough and with out worry, exercise every day, have meaningful conversations, see beautiful and culturally rich places and have no stress; while we suspend our usual routine of these things and have lots of stress. It is kind of an amazing deal. Now this isn’t the case every time, but definitely in the majority of cases. Others did enjoy the trips in a different way, including that couple that might be reading this.
“As a professional translator, I did my first interpretation of a pecorino cheese factory. I had never heard the tour before, but it went quite well. Twice I thought I was stuck, but luckily the owner, Ernello, who doesn’t speak English, did know the words for ‘pregnant’ (sheep don’t give milk for those three months) and ‘ash’ (which they mix into olive oil and paint onto the cheese bricks for aging). The group, to my surprise was very interested and asked lots of questions. Two nights before they had been all-but-rude during their interactive cooking class (also through translation); of course, this time we withheld the wine until after the demonstration. At the end, one of my guests said how great it was to watch two people, who love their work, interact – referring to me and Ernello. I think this was the nicest compliment I had all summer. (Sando, you were with me the first time I served as a translator officially but unpaid: at the Chernobyl Museum).
“The same group at dinner the first night, lulled in conversation just as I answered someone’s question about how the city only had water 5 hours in the morning and evening where I lived in Ukraine. I hadn’t thought anything odd about the answer until I brought a group of 16 to a halting silence; it was a peculiar event. They also think that it is so wonderful that I am going back to work at an orphanage; it is funny to me, how I think nothing of it.
“Perhaps my final Backroads note ever: The work had a very unusual Ying and Yang, which I now mostly attribute to the sale of our balance as leaders. I may have mentioned how after I wrote a rather depressed blog, the next day I had a great ride up a small mountain. On top there was an incredible view of the Arno valley with a fig tree ripe with fruit and a really old church that smelled like a village church in Ukraine. A few days later I went for a haircut. The Italians are so good as barbers. As the woman worked adeptly on my hair, a man shaved me. I had never had two people working on me at once; it was quite luxurious.
“While at the barbers, the conversation turned to culture. I don’t know if I direct it that way, or if it is having a foreigner that speaks your language at hand, but it seems that most of my conversations sooner or later turn to this topic and how cultures affect people and traditions and society. People always want me to compare, which I do not like to do. I always say that cultures are different; each has its plusses and minuses. Even on my way home my favorite shopkeeper brought up something on the topic too.
Summer weddings:
At Brigid and Jesse Medlin’s wedding, I re-met a girl who remembered me from my creative writing and biology classes in high school. She was Josh Myer’s lab partner; Josh sat in front of me, which means we worked together more than occasionally – him and his partner and me and mine, Stephanie Shelow. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember this girl at all; I was a bit embarrassed. The wedding was wonderful and so much fun. I got to help decorate and read in church at the wedding. Thank you guys, and I wish you many years of bliss.
I was also at the wedding of Jason and Marie Sando. It too was wonderful. I think I wrote some about it before, but my notes show that I didn’t express how much fun it was, but also exhausting. The six other groomsmen plus I, the groom and immediate families self-catered, served, and decorated for both the wedding and rehearsal dinner. I found myself teaching people to tie chair cover bows at 10:30 at night and napkin folds an hour before the wedding. It was all such a fun whirlwind that when the actual wedding started, it seemed a bit surreal. Of course, playing Flip Cup at the reception could have contributed. The groomsmen and I played, and won, 3 times. I flipped first try every time (except maybe once). Jason and Marie, may your years be full and healthy and may you have many kids.
But the thing that I really want to share is that we rushed over to the hotel where everyone was staying to shower and change just before the wedding. There were the 7 groomsmen and groom with 8 tuxes and a shortage of socks. I gave up my black ones for the sake of the groom; he was wearing a few things borrowed. So finally we are all ready, and get in the elevator. On about the third floor, the door slides open. There was room for one or two more but that was it. A middle aged woman was standing there; she looked us all up and down, and then said in a rich Southern accent,
“Oooo, I wish I had a biscuit. Because I could sop y’all up.”
…and the door slid slowly closed.
Very old notes and one new one
Most of the people that could help with this, I believe, are not regular readers, so if you know one of them, please pass this along. The orphanage wants to paint a mural on the toy room’s walls. The room is about 12 by 24 and 12 feet high. One long wall is almost all taken up by two big windows and radiators, and one short wall is mostly occupied by the double door. We will supply all materials and pay expenses while you are here and a tour through Ukraine, so you just have to get a ticket here, and I can help with the cheapest routes, though you are a looking at about $1,000. I am here until May, after that, it would still be possible, but a bit more logistically difficult (the director here speaks very good English). We also want to buy a big rug, maybe with streets for toy cars or game boards, if we could find one like that. Post or email me if you are interested.
The following is a collection of notes, some of which have literally been sitting in my file of blogs to write for almost a year.
Ukraine during PC service
Ukrainians differentiate food by language more often than we do. For instance the word for wild rabbit and domesticated is different; as is for sweet cherries and tart ones. Also they have a word for dried apricots, such as we have raisins for grapes, but they have both those words too.
Sophia, one of the 8 year old girls in my library English club, is so quick at picking up game rules and things like origami, that she can master her own and still have time to show others. I, for example, have to see something done several times, gaining a piece each time but then having it always. I find her ability very impressive.
There was a man selling books on the train, which is normal. They drop a bunch on the seat by you and go off to drop more piles, then circling back to collect them or money. I never pick them up, and this ‘gentleman’ thumped them in indignation that I hadn't even looked, as he took them away.
I find that I now do things with a collectivist bend, subconsciously. I only ask people to do what I think is reasonable; they are capable of; and they are comfortable with. I think this might be one of the hardest things for an American to get (at least of the things that I have gotten). The questioner decides what is possible before he asks the questionee; he only asks too much when it is absolutely necessary, and then the loyalty of the questionee will prevail. On the contrary, in America the questioner will always ask one more thing, and it is up to the questionee to decide when he has had enough. ‘What's the worst that could happen? He says no.’ That is not the case here. If it is too outlandish they just don’t do it, even if they say they will. They say yes and you plan on it but nothing happens because you've overstepped your bounds too often or too severely with your questions; and no one ever tells you so. You get the impression that you have been undermined, while everyone else is thinking that you are a jerk for expecting so much. I mostly got the hang of this system through giving my students’ homework assignments. What do you do when not a single student in the class does an assignment? How many times can you re-explain and re-assign?
Sanremo, the town in Italy where I worked on the boat.
I stopped here after training with Backroads in France. I was on my way to Tuscany. 2 other new Backroads leaders came with me. Sanremo is along the Italian Riviera, not far from France; it is where the Alps meet the sea. It was interesting, fun and surreal at points. We were there 3 days, and one day we went up to Captain Nedo’s farm for dinner, and another night, his daughter, the stewardess on the boat, took us to a fabulous mountain restaurant. There is no menu; every table gets the same, family style. There are about 10 courses, each of which have mushrooms, all wild and different varieties, plus carafes of wine. It is incredible. Dessert is Tiramisu (mushroom free), served in chamber pots, and huge vertical dispensers of grappa which they plunk down on the table.
It was a big group that we went with. The two I brought didn’t speak Italian but they did speak French, so there was some translation and some missed conversation. As Italians go, most of the conversations were about food or sexual intercourse. At one point, just at the climax of a very interesting story that involved a stationary bicycle, a husband just home from work, a misunderstanding, and a lot of screaming, the waitress comes walking up. She acted like there was nothing out of the ordinary.
I have an affinity for sounds that I wish I could record like photos. I wouldn’t have taken the story, but when the espressos were brought, the sound of us all shaking our sugars at the same time was priceless.
