Wednesday, Sept. 01, 2004 - 10:41 a.m.
When at the Olekso castle I asked a cop if he could get me a patch off his Ukrainian uniform. He got me one out his car and I paid him $5 for it. He then told me he'd get me more if I wanted to see. So he jumped in his car and disappeared. He reappeared at the end of our tour and asked me to come with him. I went into this small room in one of the castle walls where another cop was seated. There in front of me, on the table, was the entire assortment of all patches, apulets (sp?), berets, and designations that a cop wears. I bought it all for $25 bucks. (HUGE money for him.) Now I have a beret to match the one that I bought from a security Guard at the World Cup in Chicago....
Cobblestone Streets..lots of them..these will rattle your suspension to the core...
The storks come to Western Ukraine to nest before migrating to Africa for the winter. There are huge nests on every telephone pole in the villages.
Speaking of birds, the slang for prostitute (owing to the flitting nature of the profession) is "lastivka" which is the Ukrainian word for "swallow".
Speaking of prostitutes, in Yalta and Kyiv the hotels appeared to sanction their business. One night while playing pool, one came up to myself and a friend. My friend offered her the cue and she began playing on his team. Shortly thereafter, one of her friends showed up. At this point I was thinking Ukrainian jail, if not Ukrainian mob kicking the crap out of me. As soon as the game ended (I had paid for the game and was going to get my money's worth), I looked at my buddy and said I was going to bed leaving him with both women. About a half an hour later, I bumped into him outside the hotel getting some fresh air. He too didn't like the thought of being drowned in the Dnipro river, so he took off right after I left leaving the took girls at the bar from whence they came....
Beer is sold in vending machines and you can drink from bottles while walking down the street.
Exchange between a Brit and restaurant Manager at the hotel:
"Do you speak english?"
"A leetle"
"Do you have any spoons?"
"Beeg or Leetle?"
"any spoons!"
"yes we do."
"No you don't! I wasn't able to find any spoons!"
At this point I tapped him on the shoulder to tell him that covertly hidden under a napkin were some spoons, "There are some over..."
"Please don't interrupt!" then he continued with the manager,
"For two days now you have no spoons. Yesterday, no spoons; today, no spoons. Tomorrow, You WILL have spoons!"
He apologized to me after the exchange and told me that the newer Russian management was not as good as the French group that owned the hotel before and they needed to be yelled at to be kept in line. Oh, by the way, there were PLENTY of spoons the next day....
Most people mistook me for being from Poland due to my mystery accent. When I told them the United States they were even more amazed.
Under communism many brilliant poets composers and artists were killed in Ukraine simply because they touched people's hearts enough to potentially incite revolution...the power of the arts; never underestimate it. But it wasn't in negative protest songs per se, though they exist; they do it with an appeal to beauty, an appeal to ideals, an appeal to the past...Freedom calls to Freedom....
I wish had more time to sing and dance in Ukraine...
Elections are foremost in Ukrainian minds now. They have 20 or some odd candidates; though two are in the front running: One spent a couple of years in prison...
Close to 97 percent of the people vote there. GEEZ, if anyone would have a reason NOT to vote with such candidates it's them. While here, in the US, we have a whopping 47% voter turnout. The downfall of the US will be voter apathy....
How we met our mom's family:
While leaving St. George's cathedral, a small child came up to our bus and started asking for money. It is a common Gypsy practice, though there are legitimately poor people there. Right after the kid shows up a woman shows up and asks in Ukrainian if we are from America. Now I KNOW this is a set up; we say "yes" and then they'll REALLY hit us up for cash. I answer ambiguously and the woman continues (in Ukrainian) "We were supposed to meet someone from America,"
"Who?" I ask.
"The Plishka family"
I'm stunned...Who the heck is this? Then my mom bolts out of the bus while the old lady is saying to my mom, "Maria, do you remember me?"
Turns out it's my mom's-mother's- sister's-daughter with her daughters. There were tears falling from many eyes that were clearly of the same genetic makeup.
Women in villages age quicker in Ukraine. Though she was only a couple years older than my mom (around 72, 73), she looked like my grandmother. My mom looks great for a 70 year old woman. She's got the adventurous heart of a girl.
People in the cities work hard there. It wasn't uncommon for people to work 16 hour days in the hotels.
I love visiting the catacombs of the Kyiv Caves Monastery especially the tomb of the icon-writing monk Alypij. All these underground tombs and chapels cut in to the rock-places where people prayed...amazing stuff...
Mineral water there comes, with gas and without gas (bubbly and straight). At the customs check out in Ukraine the customs person asks me if I have a "Shpritzer".
"what??"
"Shpritzer!" she barks back expecting me to know what the heck a "Shprtizer" is. Sounds to me like it's soda water so I say "yes". She looks at me, I look at her and I'm wondering why she asks me for bubbly soda water at a checkpoint unless she wants to make a vodka tonic. Our tour guide overheard my answer from further down the line and she calls to me, "It's a medical syringe!"
Ahhhh!!! Now it's clear.
"No maam, I have no Shpritzer."
Now she looks at me and clearly doesn't believe me because I said "yes" before.
I explain to her that I've never heard that word before and she appeard satisfied. (Being that my dialect of Ukrainian is from 1940 Western Ukraine, it is not uncommon to come across words that changed meaning over 60 years. "Shpritzer" is just one example....)
Look for some music out of the above experiences!
~peace~
plish
