Déjà vu of life

It’s weird to think that it’s all coming to an end, when in reality my work in Ukraine is yet to begin. At 2 months and 2 weeks here in Kolychivka, I have grown accustomed to everything and everyone around me. My Ukrainian host mama has mothered me like no other stranger has ever mothered me before. The people in this village have helped improve my Ukrainian since I find myself greeting almost everyone I walk by. But most importantly, I’m closer than ever to 4 people who were merely strangers to me 2 months ago.

Oh how being a Peace Corps Trainee relates so much to pledging Gamma.
I don’t expect many to understand where I’m coming from when I say this, because it’s not the Greek letters I wear that define me as a Gamma (or a person in general). It’s the experience that each “Woman of Distinction” possesses that makes her a Gamma. Line sisters are perhaps the closest because of the experiences that only they can share and relate to. Not even the older or newer generations can truly relate to other lines (pledge classes) because what we live through can’t easily be explained. It’s a special bond that only we can treasure and reminisce.

I’ve sweated, cried and dreamt Ukrainian.
Now that I’m on international grounds, I find myself experiencing something very similar (but a bit more extreme) to that of fall 2008. I started this journey with 83 Peace Corps trainees back in D.C., and so far 4 people have “dropped” along the way. Although we were all selected to be grouped together at random, I like to think that God put me in this particular cluster, with these specific people for a reason. We’re all so different and if you were to see us together (truly knowing who/how we are), it would be quite surprising how we get along so great. That’s just how life works sometimes; put a group of people with different backgrounds together for 2 months and they’ll either love each other, or hate each other but learn to tolerate one another.


“No matter how much one of your cluster mates annoys you or if you have beef with one of them, as soon as you get to your new site, they will be the first person you call” – Sharon (PCV).
I believe this statement. Just like I became close to my line sisters in a matter of weeks and we had a love/hate relationship while pledging, the same kind of bond has formed between me and my cluster mates. They have seen my highs and lows, silly moments and sad moments, my “I can’t take this anymore” and “I love this”. If at the site placement interview I would have been asked to choose the volunteers I’d like to live nearby, I guarantee you my cluster mates would have made the top of my list. Unfortunately Peace Corps likes to keep up guessing and constantly on our toes about EVERYTHING… how’s that for “expect the unexpected”????

Now, the time has come to say “see you later” to my new Peace Corps family. It’s such a bitter sweet moment because I think back at how I had to go through this with my family and friends in California; and now having to do it all over again here. I don’t want to… leave “home” where I’ve learned to love my mama’s company, be the only American at my site; not having one of my cluster mates nearby to hang out and have dinner with. I don’t want to…. But I must.

Meet my Cluster Mates



Kate Baus
Her cheerful attitude lights up the gloomy morning each day we meet up for Ukrainian lesson. I find it cute that when she speaks Ukrainian, her voice goes up an octave and its sounds so sweet. She comes from a Christian home, which is comforting to me seeing how I have someone I can share my faith with. Perhaps she understands me a bit more because of that and we can relate to each other coming from a private Christian school. Oh, and she is very well travelled and can speak Arabic (I have the looks, she has the language, we would make a perfect Arabic woman).


Tammela Platt
She’s the nerd that puts everyone else to shame (unintentionally of course). Her intellectual mind both terrifies and intrigues me because I haven’t met anyone like her. This New Yorker is book smart and classy. She surprised me with her Latin playlist on itunes and being able to understand every other word of my Spanish speaking. She also happens to be my neighbor and it’s been fun going out for our morning/afternoon jogs when the weather was warmer.


Andrew Ghatti
This hockey and laccross playing guy is the man. He claims to be a weirdo, when at times he can be, but his sense of humor always puts everyone in a good mood. He’s the first to try and cheer me up when I’m having a bad day, and I thank him for that. I like to make a small connection with the fact that he’s from Massachusetts and my sister lived there for about 8 years, but there’s no need to because with just the fact that he’s so easy going, our personalities click instantly bringing out the goofy side of me.


Andy Klazca
He is such a unique person, there is no getting him confused with anyone else. Andy and I go way back from when we were left behind in D.C. The Ukrainian entry stamp on his passport is his first international stamp since he’d never left the U.S. Regardless of that, his German is said to be quite good. He too claims to be weird, but we don’t deny it because… boy does he have a fascination for Holodelnik (refrigerator) , Korova (cow), and Morozeevo (Ice cream)

Winding Down Training
Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, was our last day teaching and I team taught our 7th graders with Andy. It was a special moment for me, so I decided to bake an extra batch of cookies so I could share with my students. I will truly miss them, especially since they were such great students with their participation and attendance. Later that day, we had a tea party with the teachers as a thank you for letting us work there and we presented the English teacher with the dictionaries and home reading books we purchased from the money we raised. The vice principal invited us to their sunflower club’s 20th anniversary celebration which would be held the following day.

The sunflower club’s 20th anniversary was an extravaganza. The gym was decorated with balloons, sunflower drawings and hidden candy. There were at least 9 tables, seating 8 people per table, with plates of sweets and cookies. We were asked to participate in some of their games, making it comical because either we couldn’t understand the instructions of the game, or we didn’t know how to speak when asked to say a few words to the audience. As soon as the games and activities were over, the celebration continued with a Discotek. I will never forget the awkward first minutes of “ummm… are we allowed to dance? This is weird” but we soon let loose to the beat of trance music and watching my 7th grader “brake dace”… priceless. I hope this won’t be the last I’ll see these kids.

Journey to Kozelets (Nov. 23)

Today marks my 2nd month anniversary of being in this country, and somehow it feels like it was just yesterday I was waiting in line at the customs check out. Besides the mild conversations amongst us 3 stooges left behind, the only thing that kept running through my head was whether we’d all be reunited again.

There was one person in particular I really wanted to see because before he left, we had a great evening sharing about ourselves and he left me a pretty incredible book in my possession that was hard to keep closed. See, this was no ordinary book, this “homemade” book with spiral binding and the cutest title page probably made in Paint program, was a record of his memoirs from when he lived in Africa. It was full of love, lust, triumph, loss, and other emotions that made me reminisce some of my experiences. By the time I finished reading it, I felt like I knew him for ages. Just reading about someone’s vulnerable moments can make a person feel that much closer.

Three times he made it out to Chernigov, the town I live nearby. His first visit was such a mission to get there, being semi-kidnapped by the new friend he made on the bus. The other 2 times were unplanned and they turned out to be quite fun… I got a concert out of the last one. This time it was my turn to go visit him and I’m not going to lie, the thought of travelling on my own to a village an hour away was quite scary. (Adam on the phone while walkiing to the church)

The first attempt….
My mama had called the bus station during the week to ask the times and prices for the bus heading to Kozelets. “The bus will pick you up Sunday at 9:05am and it should be 14 hrevin”, she confirmed. I felt butterflies in my stomach the morning of, “am I seriously taking the bus by myself?” I thought. This whole time when I’ve travelled anywhere (Nizhen, Kiev, Chernigov) it was always in a group. Granted, after getting the hang of the Marshrutka to Chernigov, I’d head into town by myself. But that was only a 15 minute bus ride and I knew exactly where to get off.

So there we were (my mama waited with me), standing at the bus stop 2 minutes to 9am (just in case it arrived early). I was rehearsing in my head how I was going to tell the driver that I needed to be dropped off at the bus station in Kozelets (in Ukraine, sometimes you have to instruct the drivers where you’re going otherwise they’ll drop you off in the middle of nowhere, like Adam told me it happened to him). After chit chatting with my mama for about 10 minutes, I became anxious as to why the bus hadn’t arrived. “Don’t worry, buses usually run late” she said. It was now 9:40am and we saw about 7 buses drive by except the one to Kozelets. Sadly, I called him and Meredith (my old D.C. roommate who happens to be in his cluster) to let them know what had happened. A part of me was quite relieved though because I don’t think I was ready to travel on my own.

The Second attempt…
2 Sundays later (Nov. 21) I attempted to do the same. This time I knew NOT to look for a bus that said Kozelets on it, but Desna, and I had to flag it down to stop for me… seemed like so much work. So there we were (my mama waited with me again) with our eyes peeled for the bus. 9:15a.m. and we could see it coming. Great, in a matter of seconds I’d be sitting on that bus on my way to see Adam and Meredith. Just as it was approaching, the driver decided to speed up and pass up the slow car in front of him… driving right by my mama and I without even glancing our way. Not again!!!

Third time’s a charm…
That same day I acted quickly and told my mama that I was going to head into town to the bus station and buy the next ticket to Kozelets from there. There’s no chance in being left behind at the bus station, unless I was in the bathroom or something. So I did just that and bought the 10:40a.m. bus to Kozelets. I thought everything was smooth from there on, but there was still another task at hand…. Which bus was I supposed to get on? You would think “just look for a bus that says Kozelets”… unfortunately sometimes the buses don’t say the town/village because it makes many stops along the way. So there I was, 40 minutes early asking around which bus was going to Kozelets. Luckily the lady checking the tickets said in RUSSIAN (because even when I ask in Ukrainian, I get responses in Russian) that the next bus to arrive in lane 3 was the bus I needed to take.

Finally, after about an hour long bus ride, the driver granted my request of dropping me off at the bus station in Kozelets. It was a gloomy and sprinkling day but I was excited to be there. I felt victorious travelling by myself and not being shy about asking around where I needed to go. I rather sound silly with my thick accent and ask people for directions rather than winging it and ending up completely lost. A combination of being a gloomy day and Adam recovering from some stomach bug, it was a very chill day. I met his host mama and brother as we ate lunch together. They seem to be very happy with him, which doesn’t surprise me because he’s a great guy. Then after showing me pictures from his trip to Guatemala this past summer (which I enjoyed very much), we met up with Meredith whom I hadn’t seen since she left D.C. back in Sept. (Meredith and I in front of the Church)

After realizing I misread my departure time on my ticket (because apparently I don’t know how to tell military time) we headed back to the house from the cathedral, which by the way was beautiful and one of the largest I’ve seen so far. “You need to play your saxophone for me because that day in the park doesn’t count” I said to him on our walk back to his place.

As soon as we arrived to his house, he whipped out his saxophone and laptop with music he’d play along to. Meredith and I sipped our tea while he played for his mini audience, his host mama and brother included. It’s nice to see someone do what they love so much, and for him it’s to play his saxophone. “Can you dig it?” he says “Yeah I dig it” we say. He makes me love jazz even more, and a bit envious that I can’t play a saxophone. After dedicating the song “a girl from Ipanema” to the Latina in the house, we rushed to put our coats and shoes on to head over to the bus station. I made it in the nick of time, shoes/jeans wet and all from stepping in huge puddles. I gave both of them a big hug and hopped on the bus back to Chernigov/Kolychivka.

As I sat in my seat listening to my new favorite jazz artist Jamie Cullum (compliments of Adam), I thought to myself: If I let fear get the best of me, I’ll miss out on so many great things in life. For example travelling on my own; I didn’t want to do it, but if I hadn’t, I would’ve missed out on such a great day like this day.

Fall Festival in Ukraine (Nov. 11)

I know I didn’t do a good job at explaining exactly what it is I’d be doing during the 3 months of training, mainly because I didn’t know so myself. Now I can tell you what my weekday has been like for the past month and a half. The schedule has been consistent with 4 hours of language lesson, teaching and observing lessons at school, penciling in language tutoring/lesson planning/homework, and sometimes special visits from the office; all of which times vary and some days are longer than others. But on top of trying to master the language and succeed in teaching multiple classes, as a cluster we are to work on a community project.

Just like how each community is different in its population and amenities, the same goes for its needs. Therefore, each cluster is to observe and ask questions to community members about the necessities in the area and plan out a project that will help them obtain (or facilitate) that necessity. We thought it logical to ask the teachers in the school we work at if there was anything they were lacking as far as textbooks, chalkboards, and other materials. Of course, the school is lacking English/Ukrainian dictionaries for the “English department” (there is no English department but I’ll just call it that) and 10th grade textbooks.

With weeks to brainstorm a way to raise money for the dictionaries and reading materials, we thought it would be nice to bring a little bit of America to Ukraine. Halloween just passed and Thanksgiving is just weeks away, so we came up with “Fall Festival” in which we introduced the children to both holidays.

I had my doubts at first because I didn’t think anyone would want to pay to come attend our “lame” festival. I know, I shouldn’t have been thinking pessimistic about it but when I think of a festival, I think of multiple game stations, food, sumo costumes (my favorite), and much more. Here, not only were we limited with supplies but also with people to work each station. To add to my worries, only 1 out of the 4 stores we wrote letters to asking to donate candy were nice enough to contribute to the festival.

Game Day
The Fall Festival was such a success. Even with 15 minutes left to finish setting up last minute touches to the auditorium, children were starting to come in. We had Katarina kindly ask them to step outside for the remaining time, and they waited anxiously. As soon as the doors opened, there was no line formed because they all barged in at once. “один Гревен”, Andy charged one by one. We instructed them to take a seat as soon as they entered and we waited until the last person arrived.

Standing from the stage, I took pictures of our audience. Andrew presented a brief summary of our American fall holidays, followed by each of us reading a sentence in Ukrainian to translate. They all clapped and quickly made their way to our stations to start the fun.

The business accounting man Andy worked the door and also sold raffle tickets that he made himself. Tammela worked the “I’m thankful for” booth where she explained how on Thanksgiving we say at least one thing we are thankful for. Students made turkeys out of their hands and wrote what they were thankful for (in English). Andrew worked the Trick or Treat booth, pretty much handing out candy to kids. Kate was in charge of musical chairs, which was the busiest station throughout the event. And I worked the Arts & Crafts booth where kids would trace ghosts and pumpkins and color them in however they wanted. I underestimated the amount of paper I had to cut, so within 20 minutes of our festival, I found myself cutting more paper. It was nice interacting with my 7th and 8th grade students outside of class. The only weird thing was this time they were allowed to speak Ukrainian and I was the one who was struggling to speak (funny how they roles change).

There must have been between 40-50 people in that room, some playing games and others posing for pictures with the best dressed student. At one point, I had one of the 6th graders dressed as a zombie ask me if she could take a picture with me. It was sweet considering the fact I wasn’t even dressed up yet she wanted to take a picture with me. Boy do we love the 6th grade and it’s misfortunate that we aren’t allowed to teach them because the school says they’re preparing for their national exams.

I must say that besides this event turning out to be better than expected, one of my highlights was having my host sister-in-law and nephew come support. My 3 year old nephew is too young to attend school, yet he’s a very social Russian speaking kid. He’s over at my house almost every day of the week as if he doesn’t live in Chernihiv (that’s where he and his parents live). Marina, my sister-in-law, is my only true Ukrainian friend whom I hang out with at home. She’s only 4 years older than me so she understands me a bit better than mama Valentina (as far as interests go). So for them to come out and meet my cluster mates, LCF and TCF, it meant a lot. The feeling would be even greater if my real family were here to see me emerged in this culture/community… but that day isn’t too far ahead.

Appreciating the Unappreciated (Nov. 4)

If someone were to have asked me 2 years ago where I’d be in this exact moment, it would not have crossed my mind to answer “teaching in Ukraine”. Yet here I am a month and a half later, in a country I most likely would not have been able to locate on a map. Do I enjoy it so far? Yes… Do I know how to teach? I’m learning. If I had a chance to go back and chose differently, would I? No.

“Good morning teacher, how are you?... I am fine thank you” the ripple effect sound of my 7th grade students greeting Andy and I at the beginning of our lesson. Surprisingly, I don’t go by Ms. Romero or Ms. Reyes, but rather Ms. Janira. It is tradition to call teachers by their first name and patronymic name (father’s name as one’s own). So since my father’s name is Angel, my patronymic name is Angelivna… it’s kind of sexist but it sounds cool. As a cluster, we decided not to use our patronymic name because some just sound silly. I may end up using mine once I get to my site, but for now I’m just Ms. Janira

After the 2nd week of teaching my awesome 7th grade class, I was told I’d be team teaching with Tammela in the 8th grade. Now, I don’t understand how there is such a big difference between the two grades when they are only one year apart, but it’s very noticeable. There’s a difference in class participation, behavior, and attendance. (There also seems to be violent flirting in 8th grade, which I understand the whole pulling her hair or poking his side… but this goes beyond that.) Just like in any situation, I accept the challenge and give it my best.

First time with the 8th grade
About ten minutes into class, the girl in the front is making paper airplanes, the boy in the middle is pestering another girls’ backpack, some boys in the back are chatting with each other in Ukrainian, all the while the girl I picked on to read is softly reading the paragraph from the book. It seems chaotic for a classroom of 12 students, but it’s actually not that bad… yet. At one point during the lesson, a girl straight up smacked the boy on his back for being the first to get to the card in the word game we taught them to play. It was loud and all the students laughed at what had just happened. I couldn’t believe how our innocent game of “word catch” turned into battle of the sexes. After the lesson I started thinking “Is this how it was like when I was in 8th grade?”

I remember when I was a student in middle school I didn’t care much for studying. At that age, all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends and talk about meaningless things. I may not have appreciated everything I had to do when being a middle school-er (and partially high school), but boy am I glad to have had teachers who cared about us. They were so tolerant and strict, always picking on the troubled kids to answer the difficult questions. They graded “unfairly”, or so I thought, yet were always motivating when they saw students trying.

Now that I can clearly see and acknowledge these traits, I hope to develop these same qualities as a teacher for my students. I hope that one day they may look back and appreciate the time and effort that I (and all their teachers) put into educating them for a better future. I know it sounds so cliché, but it’s the truth. None of us would be where we’re at now if it weren’t for those who taught us what we know. Although we may not appreciate it at the moment, there is always that one day where we’ll look back at certain events in our life and we’ll appreciate it… no matter how difficult it was.

Dreaming of Nizhen

Picture yourself strolling the quiet streets of a suburban town, it’s tranquil and all you hear is the wind breezing through your hair. The main road you’re on is surrounded by trees with leaves draping nearly to the ground and it leads you to a huge white columned building. Eleven steps up the stair case continues to lead you into the building, where once you enter and glance over to the right, there is a concrete image of the Ukrainian flag embedded in the wall (HUGE by the way). This place is known as no other than the Nikolai Gogol University in Nizhen, a town an hour and 45 minutes away from Chernigov.


But I’m getting ahead of myself in telling you about his glorious day, so let me start from the very beginning. Today, October 30th (my sister’s birthday) was our first time on the Elektrichka (train). The experience was good and bad because once we got on, there was absolutely no place for us to sit… or stand for that matter. Packed like sardines for the first 20 minutes of the ride was the most intimate I had ever been with my cluster mates. The concept of personal space went out the window the minute I stepped foot off the plane to this country and standing not even an inch away from Kate was proof of this. Through the pushing and shoving of passengers needing to get off on the next exit, I nearly sat on the lap of some strange old man. “What is this butt doing in my face?” I kept imagining him saying to himself. Oh well… I wasn’t alone with this same problem, so the only thing Kate and I can do was just laugh about it.


Finally we arrived to Nizhen and quickly headed over to the “House of Children and Youth”. At first, I was confused if this place was a school or one of those city sponsored programs hosted in a government building… but it is what its name says. Parents bring their children here during the week (and/or Saturdays) for extra-curricular activities or educational reinforcements… since apparently children can’t get enough of school. This place is great though and really gives children/teenagers the opportunity to develop academically and creatively. It offers art/painting, singing, dancing, acting, language learning, and a few others. The lady giving us a tour of the place let us sit in on one of the English classes with the kindergarteners… it was the most adorable thing ever. Ten little Ukrainian children sat in red miniature chairs in front of us. “Hello” they all said, and continued on with their lesson. I would love to teach this age group, but in order to do so, my Ukrainian (and perhaps Russian) would have to be close to perfect. It was great seeing how one would teach such young children, and they were well behaved too (then again, there were like 13 of us in the room). Shortly after the class observation, we headed outside where 4 guys dressed in traditional Cossack clothing performed a reenactment sword fight.

For almost two weeks now, our Technical trainer Katarina had been wanting to bring us here, her home town of Nizhen. “I was not born here, but moved here with my parents when I was 6 years old”, she said when I asked if this was where she’s lived her entire life. The trip was originally supposed to take place last Sunday, but she had a family emergency to tend to. Although dealing with a family emergency is never a positive thing, postponing the trip for this past Saturday turned out to be one of best things for various reasons.



Reason #1
See… when the last group left from D.C., leaving me behind, one of my favorite people left along in that group and I’d been wanting to see her (Kate Tremont). I briefly saw her at the café in Chernigov where all the volunteers go to on the weekend to use the internet. Unfortunately when I was coming in, she was leaving to catch her bus for a 2 hour bus ride back to her village. It sucks that not everyone lives near the city like me; it makes it that much harder to hang out with them. She did manage to tell me that her cluster was planning on going to Nizhen the following Saturday so maybe we could work something out. Well it worked out and her cluster tagged along with whatever activities we had going on for the day (except touring the university).
Reason #2
I finally met him… him being the only other Spanish speaker in Peace Corps Ukraine. Simon is his name and he’s in Kate’s cluster group. I’m thinking she told him about me the night I called her and she was over at his place working on lesson plans. Turns out that this guy from Ohio lived in Argentina for 5 months and picked up Spanish pretty quickly. I think it’s an awesome connection that out of all places, he lived in Argentina… Guatemala would’ve been better, but I’ll take what I can get. Needless to say, I have a new buddy, one I can speak Spanish to so I won’t lose the language (since I’m already struggling with it).

Reason #3
The weather was great. Right now is the time when the days are supposed to get shorter and colder. Winter, the heavy snow kind of winter, starts in a few weeks so we should be seeing less of the sun any time soon. So it was great having such a sunny and warm day, even if it was just for a little bit. It made the scenery that much prettier, making it great for pictures.

So there we were, a good 14 of us Americans walking around Nizhen like we knew the place. Seeing the reaction of the locals as we walked by talking oh so loudly… I can only imagine what they were thinking. Americans are pretty loud now that I witness it everywhere we go. But the minute we stepped foot in the cathedral, our voices went to mute mood. The inside of this place was quite beautiful yet spooky. I’m not used to being surrounded by icons and idols, but I must admit the art of it was quite nice and the golden stands glimmering from the fire of the candles gave the place a nice ambiance. Our arrival seemed to be timed perfectly because within minutes of us gazing at our surroundings, a trio began to sing in angelical voices. It echoed throughout the church, making it sound even sweeter in our ears. All I could do was just close my eyes and take it all in. I’ve only heard such singing in movies when the scene takes place in a church and the bad guy confuses his sins. But being there and hearing it in person was a whole lot better than any surround sound movie theatre.

Oh Nizhen… how I enjoyed touring you and making new friends. If I ever feel like getting away from the busy lifestyle of the city, or want to reenact my version of a romantic movie scene, I shall go back to you, for this day was like a dream and it almost had all the right people in it.

12 Kilometers

Standing at the Zopenka for nearly 30 minutes waiting for the Marshrutka to pass by, my mama kept hinting at how I should have worn an extra layer to fight the cold. The Sunday morning was windy, but the sunny sky seemed to promise a warm day. So I went along with it and agreed that it was pretty windy to be wearing my workout clothes; an 80% polyester 20% spandex Nike t-shirt, black yoga tights and a coat. In my head, there was no need for an extra layer because in a matter of minutes I’d be sweating. Finally the marshrutka to Ivanivka arrived and my mama hugged me goodbye.

Ivanivka is a village right next to Kolychivka, about a 5 minute bus ride. Everything about this place is identical to my village the only difference is it has a higher population (not by much).

By the time I reached the village, the Ivanivka cluster had been waiting a good 20 minutes for my arrival and I felt really bad when I saw them from a distance waiting at the Zopenka. How typical, the Latina arriving late (they didn’t say that but it’s true). With no time to waste, we began our morning jog to Chris’ house to drop off our coats and start our journey. About 15 minutes into the jog, Kurt surprised me with the news of where our run was heading to. “We’re going to the Desna River” he said. I gasped while running (it is possible) because this river is pretty far, at least in my opinion it is. I see it all the time when driving into the city. Occasionally, when the Marshrutka drives over the bridge you can see someone fishing or picnicking.

(Now, it’s important to know that at one point in life I was pretty athletic. Playing soccer in high school kept me active and fit. I was a fast runner, but sadly, didn’t have much endurance to maintain the speed (hence my position as defense). I regret not sticking with it throughout college because I think I could have gotten better. But that’s just me… can’t commit to one thing and moving on to the next.)

Deep into the wilderness of Ivanivka, I could not believe my eyes at the site of this beauty. The sun shone perfectly on the golden leaves surrounding the forest. The almost concreted road led to an even more beautiful site as we exited the forest and entered the vast plain. There was no house in site, just trees, plants, and the blue sky. Everything about this run was incredible. The salsa music playing on my mp3, the company that kept me motivated to continue running and not stop at any moment, the sun keeping me warm against the gushing wind. It was by far the perfect run, all of which left me soar immediately after we ran back from the river.

(Danny and Jasmine high-fiving)
My body was screaming at me to go home and lie down. It had not received such intense running in a long time. I probably ran more than I ever did in a soccer game. “Was the river worth the run?” Chris asked. It sure was, but there was no time to rest this tired body. I had less than an hour to ride back home, clean up, eat and head out to the city. Normally I’d just be lazy after a workout but earlier during the week, I had made plans to meet up with Jasmine and some of her cluster mates to tour the city. For once I wanted to site see instead of doing the usual; using the internet, shop at the bazaar/supermarket and meet other PC volunteers.

(the monastery)
So there I was, dragging my legs across town and it didn’t help that Jasmine knew a “shortcut” to the church she was taking us to. The real killer was the hike, I truly felt like an old lady. But once again it was all worth it because when we arrived at top, the place was quite beautiful. It turned out to be a monastery (it was obvious we didn’t know where we were going) and it had an amazing view of part of the city. Every part of me just wanted to stay there, mainly because I was too tired to keep walking. There was still more of the city to see but we decided to call it a day... Perhaps next time I won't be exhausted from 12 kilometers of running/walking.

Smiling for Kolychivka (Oct 10)

(the main bus stop)

One of the things I remember from the mini Ukrainian study session Victor organized for those left behind in D.C. was that “Ukrainians don’t smile”. If we walk down the street and smile politely to the people passing by as a courteous “hello”, they will look at us strange and know we’re foreigners. But how can you hide a smile? I may be good at forcing a smile but not hiding it, especially when the emotions within me are trying to find its way out.

So as I walk back home from Andy’s house, all I could do was just smile. Smiling at how beautiful the day looked, the sun shining on my cold face. For some reason I am extra happy today and I can’t explain why. Never have I smiled so much to myself as I did this day, walking down the dirt road of Kolychivka. I started thinking of how free I felt being so far from home (wherever that is anymore) and on my own… literally. I know most people get frightened at the thought of being away from family/loved ones. Not to say I don’t miss them, because I truly do. But there’s something here that I can’t explain… something that brings me joy even though there are tough days of irritation and frustration.

(my lovely house)

Perhaps it’s the idea of helping a community that otherwise would go unseen. Kolychivka is such a small village. It’s definitely smaller than CSULB, a bit bigger than Calvary Chapel South Bay, and about the same size as Christian Academy of Guatemala. There’s no internet, no restaurant (forcing us to eat at the school’s cafeteria almost every week day), 2 bus stops, lots of cows, and a few mini markets. I can see why not many people would pay attention to such a place. But I love it out here.

(the post office)

Seeing the sunrise and sunset is priceless, hearing the cows moo their way home around 5:30pm makes me giggle, cramming in a “marshrutka” to go to the nearest city is adventurous, and most importantly, seeing the somewhat blank look on the faces of my 7th graders is challenging. They may not understand me now, but hopefully with time they will remember me (and the rest of my cluster) as the ones who cared enough to stay here till the end.
(the school i work at)

Screw Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie’s reality show “the simple life”… THIS, right here, is the simple life and there’s nothing I want more than to keep smiling for Kolychivka.