Borderland Edition

It’s official. Yesterday I swore-in as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). Now it’s off to eastern Ukraine for the ‘real’ work.

It was one of those moments in life when you realize that this is what life really is, apart from all of the chores and duties, when you are just in the moment. It was an ordinary weekday evening. Olya and Igor arrived home at the usual late hour of about 10pm after a long day of work and school. I had spent the better part of the evening studying Russian and reading about the Balkans. As usual, we congregated in the kitchen. We discussed the typical talking points: what I did that day, why didn’t I eat more soup, and why didn’t want to eat a second piece of the jellotin cake they brought home tonight.

As we sat there in the candlelight, Igor playing his guitar and Olya singing along, I took a deep breathe of the intoxicating moment. We had just about polished off a box of cheap wine and were all feeling the usual euphoria (?) that comes from drinking a couple glasses of wine. The wax from the candle dripped slowly onto the table, nearing ever closer to the half-eaten piece of stale bread sitting nearby. A bowl of fresh cherries stood in the middle of the table, looking inviting and tasty. I wondered to myself, as I usually did about any sort of fresh fruit, if these had come from anywhere near Chernobyl, only x miles upriver. Not that it would really matter much, I reassured myself, as two years in Ukraine would probably do its damage whether or not I enjoyed a few pieces of fruit. My belly was full from a delicious salad and rice combination that Olya had created as we talked about the day’s events. She had just encouraged me to consider having a few drinks before my upcoming language interview, as I was speaking better Russian after the glasses of wine. Now, as the words seem to just flow from my fingers as I type this, I wonder if it’s easier to write after a bit of alcohol as well.

“… don’t be afraid of what may come…” — I was only able to translate a few of the lines of the song before I gave in to the moment. Olya’s sweet and soft voice continued to fill the room with the melody. The flickering candlelight cast a shadow of the shirtless Igor on the tiled wall of the kitchen. I thought to myself that this was definitely one of the moments in life when everything is calm and at peace. This is what I journeyed thousands of miles away from my home for. This is why I came to Ukraine.

Olya giggled once again at my pronunciation of “kresla”, the Russian word for rat, as their pet rat scampered across the kitchen floor. I asked what they named the rat. “Pachoka,” Olya replied as she giggled some more, half from my poor pronunciation and half from the wine I’m sure. I thought back to the kind words they have spoken about my upcoming departure from this small town in northern Ukraine. “We plan to feed you lots of sweets so that you don’t go away to DP,” they joked. I knew it was a special moment in life and in knowing this I was able to breathe it all in, as deeply and fully as my soul would allow. But, I knew that this evening, like all great things, would come to an end. So I picked up my notebook, thanked them for a great evening and song and friendship, and stumbled off to bed.