Perpetual Change

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.

posted by jjs @ 3:38 AM