"I don't like the rain, we're too close to Chernobyl."

...said our LCF (language & cross cultural facilitator) when we stepped outside into the slight drizzle yesterday, right before she jumped under an awning. The rest of us, who were already standing well within reach of each radioactive drop, awkwardly crept towards the nearest shelter we could find. Just another day in Ukraine, I suppose.  Obvs the rain is (probably, i hope, please dear god) safe, but the danger just hasn't been shaken from the mindset of most people. After that anecdote, I will understand if no one wants to hug me when I return home.

Warning: a long blogpost follows.

I'm sitting here typing while I'm watching a football match between Shaktar Donetsk and Dynamo Kiev with my host father. My host sister is coring apples on the other side of me and my host brother keeps running in and out of the living room pointing to my computer and saying "мне нужен" which means "I need". Very cozy scene. So some fun facts about my host family sitch:

1. Host mother & father, sister (13 years old, Nastya) and brother (2 years old, Vannya). That's it. This is unusual because there are typically more than just two generations living together, and sometimes some other random family members thrown in the mix, but I'm not complaining.

2. I'm in a house! And have my own (HUGE) room! And indoor plumbing! And hot water! And I can put the TP into the toilet, instead of in a trashcan next to the toilet! And, better than all the rest...FAST WIFI! Like as fast as I had at home. All of these conditions are truly shocking because we were not at all prepped for this. It's a charming home that has been continuously updated and improved upon since before my mom was born, literally, here.

3. There's also a cat (I believe her name is dashka), a dog (who's already made me his girlfriend, as my host mom told me while laughing, and has repeatedly made untoward advances on me) and some chickens!

4. For all the modern conveniences this family has (wifi, washing machine, microwave), it's incredible how self sufficient they are and how nothing goes to waste. They have one tiny (like bathroom size) trashcan in their kitchen and that's it. 

5. I look forward to gathering eggs.

6. My host family has already hosted 6 or 7 PCT, so they're pretty familiar with american oddities (e.g. they gave me my own trashcan, which I now realize is a rarity).

7. 3 outta the 4 family members speak some level of English. me --> spoiled

7. BTW: If I haven't already mentioned it, I'm training in the same city as our arrival retreat, Chernigov, population ~ 300,000. wikipedia it for more stats.

My cute little Vannya! We're the only two in the family that can't communicate with each other yet.

Basically all of my cultural training prior to moving was made ineffective as soon as I stepped into my house. This just means I have no idea how to actually behave around my own family. We were trained on some of the major cultural differences, like how to refuse gallons of vodka and five servings of borsht, to never, NEVER leave bread on your plate as waste, how two is the unluckiest number in the universe so avoid it at all costs, etc. etc.. But what if your family doesn't seem to subscribe to any of those cultural nuances? Like what if your host family gives you two shots of wine during dinner and that's it?? We weren't trained for that! I feel like at any moment I could be offending any member of the family. Should I be typing while they're watching TV? Is that why everyone's gone from the room already? Was I supposed to take the watermelon rind out to the chickens rather than throw it in the compost? Was it weird for me to ask to take a shower in the middle of the day? My mom already 'yelled' at me for leaving the kitchen earlier without taking any food for dinner. But there wasn't any food to take yet! Should I have just waiting at the table until she was done cooking? Should I not have gone back up to my room? Or should I have just sat patiently in the living room and checked on the kitchen every 5 minutes. I don't knoooowwww..... But it's only my second full day living with them, so hopefully I'll be able to work my way into a smoother routine as the days go on. Oh good! As soon as I finished typing that sentence, my host sister came and sat back down next to me. I didn't burn any bridges.

Our arrival retreat "hotel" and "cafe" (can you make out which word is which in the pic?! you just read ukrainian). Bomb shelter tour was the best part. Everywhere you're reminded that just a few decades ago, everyone here HATED us. Or at least thought we were starving alien-like creatures that needed their help.

My Ukrainian bed @ the hotel; I love rugomforters.

So today I went to the 'bazaar' with my mom, dad and bro (dropping the 'host' prefix). It was basically a mini Ukrainian version of the West Side Market, whole bunch of stalls selling various meats, cheeses, tea, underwear, you know. But you have even less room to walk between stands. Very interesting place to go and every neighborhood in the city has one. I brought my camera with me and desperately wanted to take pictures, but I wasn't sure about the cultural norms surrounding picture taking of strangers. I was too afraid a babushka would come charging at me, throw down my camera and declare she defeated an imperialist, so I kept my camera safely hidden in my purse. But as we were leaving, I felt brave enough to try and surreptitiously capture my family from behind, walking out of the bazaar. Just as I went to snap the pic, this happened.

"Spy!"

...she hissed to me as soon as she turned around. I began protesting "no! no! no! no! I didn't want anyone to think that!" but she just laughed and continued walking. Lesson: must look more like a Ukrainian before I start taking pictures in public. Which segues nicely into my next section.

Last night Sergei (dad) and I were standing on the massive city square listening to Putin's favorite band play (Lubeer, or some kinda name like that). Yesterday was a "city day", but no one seemed to know why we were celebrating, nor did they care. If it's been a city day for as long as they can remember, that's good enough reason for them. Anyway, I had a lot of time to people watch and come up with these observations:

How you can tell I'm not from around here..
1. I don't look like I came out of a Baby Phat dressing room.
3. I say excuse me when I run into someone/need to get through people. Personal space is not a Ukrainian concept, thus there's no reason to say "excuse me/извините" if you bowl through a group of people.
4. Head to toe leather would camouflage me pretty well.
5. Get it gurl...no one in this city is afraid of the combination of 4 inch heels & bumpy, rocky or bricky surfaces. Every surface falls into one of these categories, so yea, you get the picture. I thought I was dedicated to heels, but these girls blow me out of the water. My tennis shoes last night @ the concert were a dead giveaway.
6. Frosty pink lipgloss is always accepted, encouraged, beloved. I'm going back to it, Allison.
7. No bangs, No scrunchie, No Ukrainian

So those are just some of my physical red flags, and why I sometimes get the 'whose the crazy mute over there?" looks from the locals. All in all, Ukraine has been wonderful and my family is beyond welcoming. Simultaneously I feel grateful and out of place/uncomfortable & everyday is a new adventure. Tomorrow begins the hardcore language/technical lessons, so I'm sure I'll be bitching about all of that soon. Rando pics below.

all 127 books i 'transferred' from a fellow PCT. i have grown to love my kindle

My new sunday morning brunch: homemade cottage cheese from a villager + homemade sour cream + homemade apple jam. fab-u-lous

nothing special, just ukraine

A typical soviet style apartment building. They all look the same and they're everywhere. I'm supposed to be able to weave my way through these to find the matrushka (small bus) station tomorrow, in order to get to class. I may end up in Russia instead.

This country knows how to cultivate flowers. They're gorgeous and everywhere. It's a perfect antidote to the drab buildings. Pics of my mom's flowers to come.

So Chernigov used to be THE place for airman/cosmonaut training during soviet times, esp in the 60s. A large portion of the training grounds is just a few minutes from my house.

An abandoned airmen military academy.

Closeup of the same building. My mom said that the city just doesn't have any money to do anything with this building. Sounds familiar.

People seem to love to attempt English, be it on signs or graffiti. This russian reads "your instruments for work"; it's a sign for a hardware store we went into today.

OH! I forgot another awesome part of my day. I had my first taste of Ukrainian vodka today! My dad gave me a shot of horseradish vodka during dinner. It was very smooth and horseradishy. My stomach didn't dig it as much as my tastebuds did, but still lovely.