Arriving in Kyiv - first week in Ukraine

 8-16-21

Yesterday is history

Tomorrow is a mystery

Today is a gift

That’s why we call it ‘the present’

                                                        -Eleanor Roosevelt

 Oleg arrived at Kyiv International Airport to pick up his relatives, his sister, Tetyana and brother-in-law, Ken. He is a well-dressed, tall and handsome man, dressed in the style of Summer Ukrainian casual dress, tight shorts and a muscle-bearing shirt, with the seemingly mandatory gold plated chain necklace. At 39 years old, his noticeably younger, pretty and thin girlfriend tags along to assist. Her name is Tatyana, same as my wife’s, so I take to calling my wife Tety, and Oleg’s woman, Tanya, instead of dealing with the constant confusion over who I am addressing, although I don’t have much to say to Tanya because she doesn’t speak any English and is shy around me and not talking directly to me, either. More likely, like me, she doesn’t know what to say and instead remains quiet so as not to be misunderstood or as ignorant (which she certainly isn’t). 

Haven’t you also noticed how shy and reserved you are when in the midst of foreigners when you are on their home turf? In a way, it’s kinda nice to be relieved of the pressure of always having something to say to people, or to sound “smart” to others. Americans like me always need to be heard, so it’s actually quite refreshing to just sit and listen to other people yammer on and on. And when they are speaking a foreign language, you don’t even have to pay attention all the time because you have no idea what they are talking about, giving you extra moments of time to observe the environment around you, to really soak it up and absorb the smaller things in life that typically pass without us even noticing. Those girls on the Riverwalk playing bad Ukrainian disco music too loudly in an effort to gain the attention of that one cute guy over there (he’s not listening). A man giving me the side-eye after noticing my old worn sandals. Those young men playing a form of chaotic basketball by their own rules. That woman in the red dress siting on a rock, eating an apricot while her man stands knee-deep in the Dnieper River flyfishing. The graffiti/tagging in parks that has nothing to do with gangs, turf marking or nicknames, just random shit like this. All this witnessed on a late afternoon stroll with my peeps along the Dnieper Riverwalk, while they all spoke Russian. I would have missed all that.

It’s like clandestine meditation, a discreet moment of mindfulness, which I guess is why most people in these seemingly awkward moments don’t feel particularly stressed about it. Especially nowadays in the U.S., where everyone has strong opinions about everything, and where we feel a need to proclaim these opinions loudly and often, it’s really nice to just sit back sometimes and LISTEN freely to the world around you!

So, the first thing I noticed in this selfless state was Oleg’s ability to focus on our well-being and comfort. Oleg has gone above and beyond for us on this trip, my first and likely last sabbatical. He is acutely aware of our need for respite since he himself has spent a lot of time in foreign countries himself, including several years in Connecticut, Rhode Island and New York City where he got his M.B.A., learning the language and cultural nuances of America. He is fluent in Russian, Ukrainian and English, so he is not just our tour guide while we are here; he has also volunteered to be my translator when I visit some criminal justice (restorative justice, mediation) programs for the interviews I plan to conduct for my research as well as for the Deviance class I’m supposed to teach to Ukrainian undergrads at Kyiv Polytechnic Institute in a few weeks. Oleg has also kicked out the residents of one of his spare apartments he rents out so that we could live there, rent free. So, this accommodation has cost him plenty, not just in terms of cash money, but in his time and energy, which is something I can never fully repay him for.

But I’m not thinking about any of this as we pass through customs after a long, 12 hour flight, our first flight since the pandemic, which made the trip particularly tense for everyone. I’m merely grateful that he is there to help us with our luggage and to drive us to our home for the next few months. When he asks the obligatory question for anyone getting off a long flight, “how was your trip?”, I decide not to tell him how awful and uncomfortable it was wearing a (Covid) mask for the entire duration, the ear strings gouging painful indentations behind both ears, or the fact that the guy sitting directly behind me was coughing up a lung, or the fact that when he wasn’t constantly kicking my seat, he was farting incessantly. And let me just expound on this for a moment - so you can really experience the emotional trauma I endured with this man’s butthole, because the noxious gas released was exceedingly foul, a mixture of sausage and stinky fish (herring or mackerel I supposed), with a side order of rotten curry and ass. So toxic was this smell that I could actually taste what he had for dinner (guessing pizza and/or thai food)! At that moment, I wished he would have coughed the virus into my lungs just so I would lose my sense of smell. In hindsight, I was actually glad I was wearing that mask (note to self: continue wearing a mask on flights in the future, post-pandemic)!

Are you ready to get on a plane again? They say it’s not the destination but the journey, right? But when the journey to your destination sucks a bag of dicks, all you can think of is the destination, which we finally arrived at, Oleg’s apartment and neighborhood in Kyiv, and it already feels like (temporary) home, thanks again to Oleg and his thoughtful preparations for our stay. We have everything we need, we are comfortable, acquainted with the neighborhood and finally able to relax and start settling in. Memories of that awful plane ride have quickly faded, as if it only happened in a dream or, more precisely, a boring, stinky nightmare!

From our apartment window: PIC1 | PIC2 | PIC3

notice the McDonald's?

Other pics from the neighborhood: PIC4 | PIC5 | PIC6

Ukrainian currency looks like this 😊

Traffic is crazy and parking is even more bizarre!

Fresh fruits and vegetables picked daily from local fields are found on nearly every street, sold by babushkas

the peaches were orgasmic, picked that morning

It’s now DAY 4 and Taty, Tanya, Oleg and I are preparing to travel by train to Odessa to visit Taty’s cousins whom I’ve met on a previous trip, and also to hold my first interview with a woman named Natalia who runs this mediation/RJ program, so this seems like a good time to break for now until the next post, which will be on the Black Sea. Taty has set up an (English) tour guide for me while there so I can learn more about Odessa’s rich history, so I’ll have some interesting stories and pics to share next week!

BIRD WATCH: Here’s what a Ukrainian crow looks like, more accurately an “Old World” Hooded Crow, but so far I’ve also seen urban magpies, mallards and gulls (on the river), and the ubiquitous pigeons and house sparrows. Odessa will have much more to offer as far as birds go, and I still need to get to a couple spots around Kyiv (the hydroelectric plant and dam, and nearby parks).

See ya soon, (“Paka”)