Welcome Back! or, Here We Go Again
Well, Blog, this is it. It's time to get rolling again. Here I am, happily situated with a computer and internet access at my site these past four weeks and I haven't written to you once. That's about to change!
The last time I wrote, I was sitting on a red Ikea couch in my comfortable, familiar living room, pounding frantically (everything seemed frantic in those pre-departure days) at my keyboard, wondering if I'd get everything I needed to get done done. I'm happy to report that 1) I pretty much did, and 2) it doesn't matter anyway: life goes on.
I am in Ukraine! How can a few words even begin to characterize all the feelings I've felt these last three months? After the adjustments and the challenges of moving, of training, of missing my husband and family and friends, I have to say that I'm finally feeling fine. Mostly because Ukraine is such an irrepressibly interesting, paradoxical country. How can you explain jellied chicken? It's jello, and it's chicken, together, in one dish. My mother would be horrified. Is it delicious? Ukrainians think so! In fact, galubiets is one of the national dishes.
Or try, just try, to grasp the deeper meaning of having tea. Sounds easy enough: steep, stir, drink. Not so fast! You've got to simmer down, to savor things a bit. Tea is, simply put, more than tea. It's time to relax, time to enjoy one another's company, time to sip some of the sweetness of life. Here in Ukraine, I have tea at least 10 times a week. Life is good.
Just today, in fact, I was sitting in the teacher's cabinet (i.e., lounge) with my coordinator, Tatiana, and a few other teachers. We were drinking tea and eating buterbrod (bread, butter, and a yummy balogna-like sausage, the staple of Ukrainian lunches), when the bell rang. It always rings, since we only have 20 minutes for our lunch break. I sighed, looking into my cup, which was still three-quarters full. Since I wouldn't get to drink my tea (read: the bell rang, it's time for class), I stood up. "No, no," they all exclaimed in a chorus, bodily dragging me back onto the bench, "Sit down! Drink!" I felt strange - shouldn't I be getting back to my class? "Not at all. Don't worry, the students are always late, you'll be fine. Drink! Drink," they urged. They cajoled. They insisted. I was helpless to resist, so I guiltily finished my tea as fast as I could, and got to class five minutes late. Such can be the pace of my new life.
Slowing down, breathing, and taking time to finish my tea is only the start of all the changes I have to make here. Sometimes they feel great, like eating fresh, organic fruit, meat and vegetables 24/7. Other times I have a harder time adjusting. Wouldn't I have felt better if I just chilled out a bit and relaxed as I drank my tea? It's too soon to feel completely comfortable with a looser interpretation of "being on time" for me. But I'm working on it, and I think that as I steep in the Ukrainian culture that surrounds me, I'll soon be the better for it.
1 comment:
Yeah, I dont know when I realized that five minutes is really nothing, and promptness is a very Corperate thing. In the real world, for instance, when around people you know and care about, you can be five minutes late for anything and its just accepted and unquestioned. Really I think when you are comfortable with your surrounding, and with those around you, the formalities of corperate life are just as inappropriate as being five minutes late to your big presentation. I also think, in communities, such as the one you are in, where people have stronger social ties to one another, professionalism plays more of a minor role in their list of priorities. Or maybe its just that they see that we work really hard all day, and its just better to be more lax when we can. Im glad you are getting to experience that. With love,
David
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