Borderland Edition

In The Saint, starring Val Kilmore, there is a scene in Moscow where all of the people are preparing for a revolution because the evil dictator is secretly hiding all of the heating oil while the population freezes. Today, I sit here in eastern Ukraine not quite freezing, but with very cold hands and feet. I’m not sure what the temperature is outside, but inside my apartment it is quite chilly. I have been asking every student and teacher that I meet the all-important question (to me at least), “When will the city authorities turn on the centralized heating?” Obviously, it has to do with saving money since the heat was supposed to be turned on first in September and then on October 16th. Today I was told that the authorities have decided that due to the usual problems with Russia, the authorities have decided that we don’t need the heat turned on until the temperature drops to -8 C (about 17.6 F). In my mind, the citizens should raise hell with the authorities for such nonsense, but no such luck here.

Today, I went out to the bazaar and bought a nice warm blanket to keep me toasty at night. During the evenings when I study in the kitchen, I light the gas stove for some warmth and turn on my Peace Corps issued heater that despite it’s large size really doesn’t do much unless you are sitting on top of it.

So, I’ve seen the movie, I do know where the heating oil has gone…

* Really, it’s not that could here yet, I’m not in danger of losing any appendages right now. It’s more the principle of the issue.

Last night I made my first visit to a movie theater in DP. A friend and I went to see the Russian film Бой с тенью (Shadow Boxing). The movie theater was much nicer than any theater I’ve been to in Colorado. The seats were plush and comfortable, the floor was clean and not sticky, there was plenty of legroom to stretch out, and there were no seats closer than twenty feet from the screen so nobody gets stuck with the crummy seats two feet away from the screen. The movie itself was kind of a Russian version of Rocky with an international crew of bad guys from America and Mexico. Of course, in this version, the Russian won the final fight and saved the day.

When I first found out that I was assigned to a big city I was disappointed that I wasn’t go to have the “authenticate” Peace Corps experience. But, after being in Ukraine for seven months, I realized a couple things. First, there is not just one “authenticate” Peace Corps experience, each site has its own difficulties and challenges. Second, for me, living in a village would get old pretty quick. It’s nice to be able to visit the village on the weekends and then return to the modern world after a couple of days. Third, the Peace Corps experience is what you make of it. Having realized these things, life here is enjoyable for the time being. Of course I miss the beauty of Colorado and being able to eat tasty Qdoba burritos every week, but the prospect of being able to someday speak Russian well makes it worth the temporary sacrifice. It’s also interesting to have conversations with Ukrainian friends about life to see the world through a different perspective.

Hmm… I can’t really think of anything else right now, I’m too distracted by the idea of a Qdoba burrito.

“You want to buy a 10,000 uah (2,000 usd) coat?”

At first thought, the idea of anyone outside of the materialistic wasteland of Hollywood having a coat that expensive seemed quite outrageous and downright foolish.

As with many things, there is more to the story. When I probed further into why a person would consider buying a luxurious fur coat when they still traveled by public transportation, I was again reminded of how much my culture and upbringing influence my reaction to ideas. To me, having a car to drive and living on my own were great incentives to get an education and earn money (never mind that I late gave that up temporarily to work for peanuts and walnuts). I was born and raised in the land of opportunity where we are taught that the world is wide open to us and that our dreams are only limited by our imagination and hard-work. For someone born in the Soviet Union, those are not the ideas with which they were raised. Going to school in an age when the kid owning a pair of blue jeans and traveling abroad to Bulgaria was a big deal, the idea of someday being able to buy a beautiful coat made of dead animal fur (ha! take that Boulder!) is a legitimate dream. Growing up I never had to live with my entire family in a one-bedroom apartment nor share shoes with a sibling (though, when I was 11, I did have to wear the cheap white McGregor soccer cleats when all the other kids had cool black Adidas…), so my culturally-influenced ideas of what is reasonable don’t necessarily apply here.

So, on second thought, I say ‘go for it’ and buy the coat. It’s more than just a fashion statement but a symbol of the success that a democratic society can bring someone who, in their childhood, decided to always wake up early and work extra hard in school so that someday she would be able to own as many shoes as she wanted.