Поїздка, Вечірка, Розв'язка: A Musical Postcard from Ukraine

Some months ago now, my dear friend Traci made and shared a few playlists with me (check them out here). Back when we were angsty and earnest teenagers we were in the habit of making mix CDs for each other and our friends - a tradition we carried into college. I still remember when I took a summer job as a trail guide in South Dakota, and Traci mailed me a mix CD from California. I had no idea what was on it, but one brilliant blue-sky Sunday I popped it into the CD drive of my ash-gold Volvo XC station wagon, and marveled as each song seemed to perfectly suit whatever was happening at the moment during an at turns leisurely and exhilarating weekend drive through the Black Hills.

Now that I'm living in Ukraine and CDs are all but obsolete, we've changed up the tradition a bit. I can't easily access Pandora or Spotify here, so YouTube is my saving grace - and YouTube playlists our new means of sending music to each other. To Traci and to all my other friends at home and around the world, here is a little musical postcard from Ukraine. So go ahead and open up the playlist, and read along if you want.

Postcard From Ukraine: Поїздка, Вечірка, Розв'язка


Part One: Поїздка

1. Buena Vista Social Club - Chan Chan
2. Дахабраха - Дівка Марусечка
3. Loituma - Eva's Polka

"Поїздка" means "trip" or "journey" in Ukrainian. This section starts not in Ukraine, but in Cuba. The sultry strains of Chan Chan by the Buena Vista Social Club conjure up not only images of Cuba and warm summer evenings, but also of the little basement-level dance studio in Cherkasy where I take salsa lessons. Chan Chan is how we start our lessons; it transitions us from our warmup to our practice, and mixes with the sound of our voices in English and Spanish and Russian and Ukrainian as we count our steps and the instructor reminds us not to hurry.
The next song in this section is deeply steeped in Ukrainian folk music. DakhaBrakha have recently gained international recognition, performing at festivals around the US and even doing an NPR Tiny Desk Concert. Anyone who knows Ukrainian music can hear the traditional influence, but many listeners will also pick up hints of melodies and beats that sound African or Middle Eastern. It's a beautiful mix.
In keeping with the international theme, the third song is a Finnish piece, Eva's Polka, that has gained a sort of cult following around the world by virtue of its catchy melody and challenging lyrics. My host family in Ukraine introduced me to this song because the father was trying to learn to sing it. Popular among a-cappella groups as an audition and performance piece, it also has a techno version by the original band Loituma, and a huge number of remixes from around the world. Nearly everyone in Ukraine knows it simply as "that Finnish song".

Part Two: Вечірка

4. Океан Ельзи - Життя Починається Знов
5. Pianoбой - На Вершині
6. O. Torvald - Качай
7. O. Torvald - Крик
8. Jamala - It's Me, Jamala

"Вечірка" in Ukrainian is "party" - and it's among the first words that I learned. There is a lot of celebrating in Ukraine, so this section is a place to showcase happy music along with some of Ukraine's best-known artists. Океан Ельзи is something like the U2 of Ukraine - everyone knows them, and their concerts fill stadiums. The next section features another one of their songs, with footage from a stadium I've been to in Kyiv; but in this section is an uplifting song whose title translates to, "Life is Starting Again". The sentiment continues with Піанобой (Pianoboy) in a super-sweet music video he shot with his son, singing "with you I'm on top of the world". O.Torvald, a band from the Ukrainian city of Poltava, brings in a sense of humor and rebelliousness. The first song, Качай, pokes fun at people's social media obsession; the second is some good ol'-fashioned youth rebellion set in a characteristically familiar Ukrainian building. This section is rounded out by a sassy performance from Jamala, a singer of Crimean Tatar heritage whose performance won Ukraine the 2016 EuroVision title and gave Kyiv the chance to host the contest in 2017. A performer who has sung in many styles and languages and expressed various personas, Jamala sings this brazenly self-confident song in which she challenges the tabloids and the media to remember that she is in control of her identity.

Part Three: Розв'язка

9. Океан Ельзи - На Небі
10. Бумбокс - Пєпєл
11. 5'NIZZA - Солдат
12.  Pianoбой і Бумбокс- Єтажи

"Розв'язка" reflects the winding down of something; the dénouement. If you pick the word apart, it means something like the "un-connecting". Our party is beginning to wind down into a warm afterglow tempered with reflection, but we start with flying: Океан Ельзи's song "На Небі", (In The Sky), describes the feeling of being with your true love: "Every moment when you are with me, it feels like flying". We mellow out and reflect a bit with the next two songs: Бумбокс (Boombox - they are from my city, by the way) sets their song to what appears to be a classic Soviet movie and reflect on the marching of time and fate. Пепел - ashes. 5'ницця (their name is a clever take on the word for "Friday") bring in reggae, Latin, and other world influences for their song Солдат (Soldier). If this song reminds you of Bob Marley's "Buffalo Soldier", it should be no surprise -5'ницця have done covers of several of his songs. Our final song, a collaboration between бумбокс and Піанобой, brings us back to flying: "You see, I'm flying - And from the bottom floors - it's my life, And I want to fly it to the end".

And that is how I'll sign off on this postcard. I hope you enjoy the music, and I hope you keep flying.

The Snickers Aesthetic

First things first: I am required to let y'all know that, "the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Ukrainian Government.” Also, while I am discussing brand-name products and stores in this entry, this does not constitute any endorsement of these products or businesses. 

Ukraine has a thing for Snickers.


The well-known candy bar can be found virtually anywhere: grocery store checkout lines, bulk sweets sections, gas stations, street kiosks, train stations, bus stops... pretty much anywhere. It comes in the original flavor, as well as the hazelnut version and the white chocolate version.

Hey look! A white chocolate Snickers! 

You can buy the fun-size, the regular size, or the giant "batonchyk" that includes three bars. But the ubiquity of Snickers here goes far beyond the simple preponderance of Snickers candy bars. In Ukraine, Snickers is an aesthetic. It is as though some quintessential Snickersness exists in the realm of Forms, along with Justice and Love and other such Platonic ideals, and various desserts strive in their own way to attain it. One does not necessarily have to be a Snickers bar to embody Snickers - at least in Ukraine.

Defining the Snickers Aesthetic
A Snickers bar is essentially nougat topped with caramel and chopped peanuts, coated in chocolate. When manifested in other forms, the most commonly expressed components of the Snickers Aesthetic are the chocolate and the chopped nuts. However, more thorough attention to Snickersness also attends to the nougat, the caramel, and the overall structure and balance of these elements.

Measuring Up: Striving for Snickersness
I live in a mid-size city not exactly known for its cuisine, yet there is a plethora of Snickers-themed desserts here. I made it my mission to find and try them all, and to figure out which ones most closely embody the Snickers bar. Or perhaps, Snickersness transcends the candy bar itself, and there is some secret to understanding Snickers to which these desserts hold the key. After all, the majority of Snickers-themed desserts do not actually contain Snickers bars. Assuming a true ideal of Snickersness exists, how do these desserts measure up? What is the essence of Snickers?

The Disappointing: Snickers Cake 1

The first Snickers cake I tried is sold in the two main grocery chains here: Cilpo and Delikat. It possesses two of the core components of the Snickers Aesthetic: chocolate, and chopped nuts. The caramel appears to be represented by the strange orangey-colored cake, which tastes strongly of molasses and is slightly bitter. Even the most abstract representation of nougat, however, is absent. I asked to buy 100 grams of this cake, but the woman in the bakery department protested that that was an inconveniently small amount to buy, so I got stuck with 200 grams. It took me two days to finish eating my giant piece of this cake that bears a resemblance to Snickers only in its name.

Creative License: Snickers Cake 2
While Cilpo sells only one Snickers cake, Delikat sells two - both simply called "Snickers Cake" (Торт Снікерс). This naturally raises the question: What is the difference? Can two different cakes be equally Snickers-like, or will one necessarily be closer to the true Snickers? Anyway, Snickers Cake 2 embodies Snickersness in its structure by including nuts within the cake itself, and not just sprinkled on the top (after all, the nuts in a Snickers bar are contained within). The caramel-ish frosting is a nod to true caramel, and it envelopes a rather abstract representation of nougat: dry, chalky marshmallows somewhat like what you might find in a box of stale Lucky Charms. The result is rather puzzling. However, I suspect that this cake is closer to true Snickersness, partially because of its attempt at acknowledging the nougat, and partially because it does not possess the bitter molasses taste of the first one. However, it is still a strange cake and seems to maintain a primarily symbolic connection to the Snickers bar. Fortunately, the bakery lady at Delikat let me buy just 100 grams of this one.

Identity Crisis: The Snickers Cake that is Really a Twix Cake 
Ukraine has a couple of chain restaurants where one can quickly and cheaply get some buffet-style Ukrainian dishes, and one such place is Час Поїсти ("Time to Eat"). I spotted a Snickers cake at a Час Поїсти, and noted that it is markedly different from the two grocery store Snickers cakes.

Interestingly, this is the only Snickers cake I have found that does not contain nuts. In lieu, it includes biscuits for crunch. But if this cake comprises biscuits, caramel, and chocolate, isn't it a Twix cake? Twix is also sold in Ukraine, but it does not seem to hold the same cultural sway as Snickers. This cake was rather enjoyable, but it puzzles me. Does Love try to be Justice? Then why does a Twix cake try to be a Snickers cake? To jump philosophical traditions, this cake needs to find its Dharma. It would be a darn good Twix cake, but as a Snickers cake it seems out of place. Oh well. Who am I to crush its dreams?

om nom nom 

Paradox: The Snickers Bubble-Waffle
Ukraine is the first place I have ever encountered the phenomenon known as the bubble waffle, although my wise friend Traci informs me that such waffles have long been a staple of Chinatowns in the US (btw - go read her blog, it's way cooler than mine). I'm not sure exactly how bubble waffles came to catch on in Ukraine, but they are here, and the Snickers bubble waffle poses a paradox: it is the only Snickers dessert I have found that actually contains Snickers, but in its entirety it bears the least resemblance to a Snickers bar. Does the incorporation of a Snickers bar into something not particularly Snickers-like still belong to the Snickers Aesthetic? I have my doubts - but I at least agree that baking Snickers bars into a waffle is a fantastic idea.

A short lesson on Ukrainian bubble waffles: first you pick your batter (vanilla, chocolate, or plain). Then you pick a filling that is baked into the bubbles of the waffle (I promise that "Snickers" is written in the photo to the right, it's just in Russian). While you will note the availability of M&Ms as well, there are no M&Ms cakes or other desserts to be found, so they, like Twix, do not seem to hold the same cultural sway as Snickers. Anyway, next you pick the filling for your waffle, which will be wrapped up like a cone to hold delicious things. I usually choose ice cream, but some people who actually eat vaguely healthy desserts choose fruit.

The chopping of the Snickers

A touch of batter is added into the iron, and then the bits of Snickers bar are carefully placed into each individual bubble spot before the rest of the batter is added. Soon, the almighty waffle iron shall yield a waffle that contains Snickers bars.


As one can see, the dessert itself does not bear the markers of the Snickers Aesthetic - no outwardly visible chocolate or chopped nuts. No nougat or caramel (although I could have added caramel syrup, thereby doubling my sugar high). No layered appearance. But - it is a waffle with Snickers bars in it. That has to count for something.



Snickers, transformed: The Snickers Cheesecake 
When I feel like spending more money than I should, I go to a coffee shop/cafe chain called Чашка ("Chashka", meaning "teacup"). There is sold a Snickers cheesecake that helped inspire this blog. I tried it once for the serious scholarly research that has gone into this entry, and it is now one of my favorite desserts in Cherkasy. Perhaps, it may also be considered a lesson in the Snickers Aesthetic.

Note how the Snickers cheesecake emulates the structure of the Snickers bar: cheesecake stands in for the nougat base. The nuts are not sprinkled on top as some sort of superficial Snickers signifier, but rather are resting in their caramel sauce atop the cake - just as they would be atop the nougat if in a Snickers bar itself. And finally, the dessert is given a chocolate coating which does not intrude upon the other elements of the dessert. As far as I can tell, this is the Snickers Aesthetic par excellence. It is also incredibly delicious.

This picture is here entirely to serve as food porn. 

Perhaps I shall find still more Snickers desserts in Ukraine; the candy has captured dessert makers like no other I have seen here. But most days, when I need a sweet pick-me-up, I still just walk into Cilpo and grab a plain old Snickers bar.

Planes, Trains, and Marshrutkas: Traveling in Ukraine

First things first: I am required to let y'all know that, "the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Ukrainian Government.”

Hello! I write as a happily liberated human!

When my fellow volunteers and I first got to Ukraine, our ability to travel was very limited. During our first month in our training city, Chernihiv, we weren't allowed to leave town without an official chaperone. At all. Once we finished training and got to site, we weren't allowed to leave site for one month, and weren't allowed to travel internationally or use any of our annual leave time for three months. In other words, we were basically captives. But, I've been at site a whopping 3.5 months now, and I am a fully liberated human! (Well, within certain Peace Corps rules). Anyway - it is time to travel. So, I figured I'd share some of my recent and upcoming adventures, and write a bit about the experience of traveling in Ukraine.

I recently returned from my first major trip since I got here. Ukrainian Independence Day is August 24th, and since it fell on a Thursday this year, most of the locals took the following Friday off to make a four-day weekend. PCVs are advised to do as the locals do, so I along with a couple girlfriends headed south to the port city of Odessa.

*obligatory photos of our weekend in Odessa. We ate tasty food. We drank tasty drinks. We lounged on the beach. It was marvelous. You should definitely go visit Odessa.*

Use the arrow keys to advance the slides above. 

But, rather than talk at length about my vacation, I  think it might be more interesting to talk about the process of getting there. What's it like to get around in Ukraine? (bez car, since PCVs are not permitted to drive).

I live about a 10 minute walk from the nearest bus stop - the end of the line for the only marshrutka that comes to my neighborhood, about 12 km outside of the city center. Virtually every journey I take starts with me walking the half-paved road to the bus stop, and hopping into a boxy yellow vehicle that is something between a van and a minibus, and covered in advertisements. We bump along through the village toward the main road into town, make a quick venture in the opposite direction to pick up a few more people, and then flip a u-turn that would probably be illegal in the US to head into the city.

The humble beginning of any adventure, be it to the grocery store or to the mountains in the far west. 

The marshrutka! Transportation isn't always glamorous, but it's how I get to my favorite coffee shops, how I go to see my friends, and how I start virtually any adventurous exploration of my adoptive home. 

The seemingly universal rule of traveling in Ukraine is that you get off the marshrutka somewhere near the McDonald's. McDonald's is very savvy in their marketing, so their restaurants are cleverly placed near most major inter-city travel hubs across Ukraine. McDonald's is also one of the only places open early in the morning (even the coffee shops here don't tend to open until 9am or later - Ukrainians don't seem to be morning people). So, if it's morning-time, I hop off the marshrutka by the McDonald's, grab an egg mcmuffin, and enjoy the privilege of a decent restroom before walking to the vokzal (train station) or the avtostancia (bus station). If it's night-time, I usually just snack on some fries and use the free wi-fi to check in with people before my departure.

WiFi! Bathrooms with toilet paper! Milkshakes that actually resemble milkshakes! Though I don't necessarily like to admit it, McDonald's has become a staple of traveling for me. Many a journey has included a short interlude at this McDonald's in downtown Cherkasy.  

I can head out from Cherkasy either by train or by bus. If I'm lucky, I can get a train straight out of the Cherkasy station. The Odessa-Kyiv train passes through Cherkasy, for example.

Catching the night train from Odessa...

...and hopping off just in time for sunrise in Cherkasy.

However, most of the trains actually come through the neighboring city of Smila. For my next upcoming adventure (Carpathians, here I come!), I'm  heading to Smila first, which means my first marshrutka will take me to a second marshrutka (by way of McDonald's, most likely) and then I will get on a train.

While I imagine that the first-class trains in Ukraine are probably comparable to other trains in Europe, the trains that I can afford on my PCV budget are... an excellent way to experience a post-soviet country...? Something like that. In a typical economy train car, there are horizontal pallets with a bit of cushioning that serve as benches while you are awake, and as beds while you sleep (overnight trains are very common). Imagine bunk beds, but squeezed into a narrow train. It's actually pretty nifty how they fit so many beds into such a tight space - although I thank my lucky stars I am not tall, because people over about 5'9'' must have a hard time fitting.

I was unable to take my own picture of the train interior, because it was full of children on their way back from summer camp, and I did not want to violate their privacy. However, this is a pretty standard Ukrainian 'platzkart" train car - the kind I and my fellow volunteers often ride. Picture courtesy of the very handy Ukrainian Train Guide from UkraineTours.com.

There is no air-conditioning on the trains, and many Ukrainians are superstitious about opening windows, so a ride in the summertime promises to be stuffy and sweaty. I got lucky on my ride back from Odessa - the other people in my section didn't mind that I opened the window, although somebody did close it in the middle of the night while I was asleep...

I am glad that I am not left to my own devices when it comes to buying train tickets. In Ukraine, you can actually buy them at the bank - which is way easier than heading all the way to the station. You can buy tickets online, too, but that defeats the purpose of going and buying them at the bank: the people there share the secrets: Get the bottom bunk, because it is used as a storage bench, and that way you are the one who controls access to your stuff while on the train. Get a bunk toward the middle of the car, so that you are not near the toilet and its potentially offensive odor. The windows only open on one side of the train, so grab a seat on the side where you can open the window. The ladies at the bank who help me buy my train tickets are some of my favorite people. Seriously.

All in all, my trip to and from Odessa required a marshrutka, a trolleybus, a big bus, a taxi, a train, and another marshrutka - but successfully navigating my first big inter-city trip and surviving my first overnight train ride felt like such milestones that I enjoyed the process just as much as the vacation itself. Next stop: the Carpathian Mountains, by way of marshrutka, another marshrutka, one of those notorious overnight trains, a shuttle bus, and, for good measure, a day's journey on horseback.

The Culture Shock Blog

First things first: I am required to let y'all know that, "the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Ukrainian Government.”

It seems that virtually every Peace Corps Volunteer with a blog eventually writes a blog about culture shock, and now is time when these blogs are popping up among the members of PC Ukraine Group 51. I've seen a handful of them lately, and it got me thinking - am I experiencing culture shock?

You'd think it would be an obvious question with an obvious answer, especially since I am supposedly some kind of expert on the topic. My Bachelor's degree is in Intercultural Communication. One of my Master's degrees is in a field that not only addresses culture shock, but trains one in how to counsel other people going through culture shock, how to manage cultural differences in international work and educational settings, and how to train and prepare people for intercultural experiences. I've been in 17 countries, studied abroad 3 times, and worked for two different international education companies. I'm, like, a culture shock expert - right?

meme found on QuickMeme.com

Ok, it was obvious where that was going.

What I'm realizing now, 4 months into my Peace Corps service, is that culture shock can manifest while seeming to have nothing to do with "culture". "Culture" - I'm prepared to deal with.

• Different approaches to time and planning? Alright, I want to become more laid-back anyway 
• The sign of the cross goes from right to left instead of from left to right, and you have to make it three times before entering a church? Cool! Religion is fascinating. 
• Different language with a different alphabet and seven noun cases and some phenomenon called perfective versus imperfective verbs? Bring it on! 
• Hyper-masculine and hyper-feminine gender norms? Yeah, they can make it frustrating to be female here, but I knew what I was getting into. 
• ... and so on.

These things (and many others) are examples of what I have long understood to be culture; they are things I am prepared to encounter and more than happy to work through. What I was not expecting, though, was the aggregation of little daily annoyances and the creeping exhaustion that comes from them.

Until just a day or two ago, I didn't think I was experiencing any culture shock, because none of the things I typically associate with culture have been bothering me. But slowly, surely, the daily little annoyances have been piling up. I've recently found myself irritable, tired, and in a constant state of ever-so-subtle dis-ease. Ha! There it is! Culture shock! I just didn't recognize it at first because it feels different than I thought it would. It feels like a bunch of little things:

• The hot, stagnant air in the marshrutka (minibus) when some grouchy old lady closes all the windows on a 90 degree day in July, and all the other passengers and even the ticket lady who works on the marshrutka are pissed off about it but nobody dares to open the windows back up  
• Living and working in buildings with oddly lightweight doors that have none of the nice little "anti-slamming" mechanisms that most doors back home have. One always has to be cringingly careful when closing doors, or else the sound will rattle the whole building
• Baking with packets of a mysterious powder called "vanilla sugar" instead of using liquid vanilla extract. Liquid vanilla extract is nowhere to be found
• Being hounded with questions like, "What on earth have you bought? Why did you buy black beans? There are plenty of other beans in Ukraine. And why did you buy dry ones? You can get canned beans. Why are you even cooking beans?" 
• and so on... 

WTF even is this?
Image nabbed from kiev.all.biz. Product, logo, all those
intellectual property things belong to Dr. Oetker company.

When you study culture shock, you most likely don't talk about vanilla extract, or disconcertingly-lightweight doors that slam really easily. And yet, these are the things that have been most exhausting for me. I find myself wanting to shout, "Come on, Ukraine - give me a break! I'm dealing with your Slavic language and your lack of recycling and the fact that people are late for everything and the whole not-doing-laundry-on-religious-holidays thing -- CAN'T I JUST WALK INTO MY ROOM WITHOUT HAVING TO THINK REALLY HARD ABOUT HOW I CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?! CAN'T I JUST MAKE A BATCH OF F***** CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?"

Sigh. Culture shock.

It doesn't always come from the big things. Sometimes it just comes from all the teeny, tiny daily reminders that you are in a place that is not yours; a place where all the usually effortless little tasks you have learned in the course of your life now take extra energy because your old habits don't work here.

Did I even mention my struggles with weighing produce at the grocery store?
No?
I won't even go there.

Time to get back to studying perfective and imperfective verbs.

Symbols and Social Reality: The Battle for the Symbolic Identity of Ukraine

Last week was the first of what I hope will be many trips to villages around Cherkasy Oblast, where I am now living and working. I was in Irkliiv with colleagues who were giving a presentation to local farmers. We had just emerged from the darkness of an old auditorium in the village cultural center, and were squinting in the sunlight. A curious monument caught my eye, and as I am wont to do, I strayed from the group to go take pictures.

"That used to be a statue of Lenin, you know."

One of my colleagues came up to join me by the monument. A Ukrainian flag now stands on what was once a pedestal for the first leader of the Soviet Union - one stone Lenin among literally thousands that were dotted around Ukraine in the 20th century to encourage Soviet unity and keep Ukrainian nationalism at bay. Now this same monument, in roughly painted letters, proclaims Ukraine's independence: "Glory to the heroes of Maidan! Unite!"

One of my favorite podcasts recently did a story about "The Falling of the Lenins" in Ukraine, and before you read any further I highly recommend that you give it a listen:
http://99percentinvisible.org/episode/the-falling-of-the-lenins/

......Have you listened yet? Go do it!
..........................................................

Cool. Carrying on.


The battle to establish Ukraine symbolically as well as politically is ever-present, both in the newfound prevalence of Ukrainian national symbols, and in the erasure or repurposing of Soviet ones. The emergence - or reemergence - of sovereign Ukraine is as much a matter of creation as it is a matter of undoing things enacted under the Soviet regime. Even while writing this blog, just now, my coworker told me about the Lenin that is now gone from the main square of Cherkasy.

"Yeah, he used to be right there - come here, you can see from the window. Right in the middle of the square."

We look out the window of our office, toward the Regional Administration Building. There is no trace of Lenin now, but he used to stand, prominently, in front of the administrative center of this Oblast. My coworker found a YouTube video of when the statue was removed (if you want to skip the commentary, jump to about the 2-minute mark):

Today, a vast and smooth square stretches out in front of the Regional Administration Building. No monuments, no flags. Just smooth concrete and stone, and a pair of fountains whose spherical shape softens the otherwise square geometry of the place. I would never have known that the giant stone Lenin was here.

The Lenin statues aren't the only symbolic battleground in Ukraine. Nearly every street in this country has been renamed - often to the confusion of anybody trying to get directions. Many locals still do not know the streets by their new names, and the old street signs are still up, bearing the names of various Generals and Marshals. But at least on Google Maps, these names have been replaced with words like "Independence" and "Comfort."

It is the replacement of symbols, rather than the attempt to destroy them, that is perhaps the most interesting to me. A few months ago, I had the privilege of visiting a museum in Cherkasy with one of the largest collections of traditional Ukrainian pendants and jewelry in the country. Traditionally, in pre-Soviet times, Ukrainian women wore elaborate metal pendants, accompanied with coral necklaces and fine stones. It was a way for a woman to show her worth, and receiving these accessories was for girls an important step into womanhood.


Items & photo from Музей Кобзаря Т. Г. Шевченка

Traditional pendants typically featured Christian symbols - often Jesus or Mary. Pendants were commonly accompanied by elaborate crosses.

But look closely at the next few pendants:

Items from Музей Кобзаря Т. Г. Шевченка

The hammer and sickle.

When Ukraine became part of the USSR, its traditional jewelry was not outlawed, but it was claimed. The USSR literally put their stamp on a Ukrainian tradition, replacing Christian symbols with Communist ones. In some ways this seems to me particularly insidious, more so than if the traditional jewelry just disappeared altogether. But in other ways it simply seems like adaptation. Symbols change. Cultures change. Things combine. And yet - it's like the new regime took a culture and a people and, with a simple change of symbol, said "This is mine." I'm not sure what to think of it.

Eventually, most traditional Ukrainian pendants were seized and destroyed by Soviet authorities anyway. That's why one of the nation's largest collections can fit in the basement of a rather small museum.

So, back to the statues. What will become of the Lenins? What should become of the Lenins? Will they be reclaimed? Destroyed? Put into a museum? It is a point of controversy for many, because symbols are a manifestation of identity, and Ukraine's identity is changing. Although the situation is vastly different, the discourse here reminds me sometimes of what I hear back home regarding the Confederate flag. How do we represent who we are today without forgetting who we once were? How do we commemorate history that not everybody wants to remember? History that was dark for some, and glorious for others? Right now in Ukraine, the mix of symbols shows the complexity of a place in transition.

Coexisting in Chernihiv: This new church, only a few years old;

this Communist monument in the churchyard, from a time when that church could not have been built;

and not far away, the Ukrainian flags that have become ubiquitous since the EuroMaidan. 

To quote Alfred Schutz: "The self-illumination of society through symbols is an integral part of social reality, and one may even say its essential part, for through such symbolization the members of a society experience it as more than an accident or a convenience; they experience it as of their human essence."

Whatever happens to the Lenins and to the other symbolic aspects of Ukraine, it is my hope that people here can claim and reflect their own history and their own identity; that the symbolic expression of Ukraine is not imposed, but collaboratively and lovingly created. It is complicated work, and I am at once fascinated and humbled to be here to witness it.





The content of this website is mine alone and does not reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Ukrainian Government

Transformation

When I applied to the Peace Corps, I did so with the hope of becoming more like the returned volunteers I know. I wrote about them in my application letter: "My RPCV friends carry patience and strength in their demeanors, a quiet testament to all they have learned." There's just a certain something that RPCVs possess, and I aspire to understand it. I aspire to be more like them (and now, RPCV friends, you are probably chuckling at me).

Having nearly finished my three months of Pre-Service Training, I am faced with how hard and how slow personal change is. You see, the thing about transforming yourself is you have to still be yourself. You can't just take a break and set yourself aside for renovations. "Coming soon! Grand re-opening: June 2019!" It doesn't work that way. My biggest challenge in Peace Corps training has not been the 7 noun cases of the Ukrainian language, the multitude of forms to fill out, or the pickpockets on the Kyiv metro. No - my biggest challenge has been the fact that I'm still... me.

Sure, I have a new home, a new language, a new group of peers, a new title, a new job - but I'm still me. I carry with me the 10-year-old Cortney who was an obnoxious know-it-all, the 12-year-old Cortney who raged at herself over every little mistake in the horse show ring, the 16-year-old Cortney who was so afraid of her first serious crush that she would hide behind a book, and pretend not to see him so that she could escape having to be the first one to say "hi." I still get a bit pretentious when I drink whiskey,  I still find a classroom more comfortable than a casual conversation, and I still never know what to do with my hair. In other words, I might have neglected to pack peanut butter, but I remembered to bring along every little thing I don't quite like about myself.

When I stop to think about this, though, I feel a little better about it. Change is hard. I suppose my anxiety and self-criticism mean I am out of my comfort zone, and inching ever slowly and steadily along the path toward being a better person. For example, I haven't fully eliminated my tendency to be cruel to myself when I make mistakes, but I have certainly pushed that habit out of some arenas of my life - like horse shows. Now I just need to learn to be kind to myself when I do something like move several thousand miles away from all my friends and family to a place where I don't know anybody and don't speak the local language. And maybe while I'm at it I can keep working on that know-it-all thing; it's still going strong, but at least somewhat less obnoxiously, and it does sometimes come in handy for this whole learning-to-speak-Ukrainian thing.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to talk to cute guys, though.





I am required to say, "the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Ukrainian Government.”

On Ukrainians

This is not a blog entry about Ukrainian culture or “the Ukrainian people”; I am not comfortable writing in such sweeping terms. However, this is a blog entry about Ukrainian people – at least, about some of them. I wanted to write a little something to introduce my friends and family back home to the people who surround me in Chernihiv (although I won’t be identifying any particular individuals).

Below are a few lines that might best be thought of like impressionist sketches: they are quick glimpses of different moments and different people that came to mind today as I thought about what I wanted to share from my past few weeks in Ukraine. My writing here is neither thorough nor analytical. I just hope that after you read, you can imagine – and feel a little closer to – the people who are now my friends, family, and community.

On Ukrainians:

They might think you’re crazy if you drink tea without eating any sweets or baked goods along with it. Or they might not; maybe they’ve just learned that resistance is futile when baba wants to feed you.

They love their dogs: athletic German Shepherds, immaculately groomed Yorkies, old chubby chihuahuas, little mystery-mutts... You’ll see people walking their dogs around town, and waiting patiently in neighborhood parks while their dogs take care of “business.”

Or maybe they prefer cats.

These dogs are actually strays, because I have't yet gotten up the nerve to ask random strangers if I can take pics of their pets. Ukrainians are working to manage stray dog populations. In some cities, strays get ID tags, and are usually spayed or neutered by agencies working on the issue.
For pictures of household pets, I highly recommend following the #dogsofukraine hashtag on Instagram! 

They feed the pigeons in the park, and plant flowers in front of the church. Or maybe their baba does that. Or maybe, these days, they just go to the park to play poker and smoke with the guys, and they are too old to have a baba.

They might confess to you their weakness for fine cheeses. Unless, of course, they prefer to go non-dairy and make raw vegan tarts of the kind one gets in the US for $10 a serving at Whole Foods. Or maybe they really couldn’t care less about fine cheeses and raw vegan tarts; they’re too busy planting this year’s crop of beets and potatoes.

They probably won't let you leave the house without your daily apple. 

They can teach you how to say “selfie stick” in Russian or Ukrainian if you find yourself wanting to learn (you probably will, while taking selfies with them). Although it’s also possible they’re the type to stick with a landline, and spend more time talking on the phone with friends than taking selfies with them.

They dance zouk and bachata in the town square. Or maybe they don’t. Maybe they’re former ballroom champions, and they prefer to dance the cha-cha-cha while telling tales of their glory days. Or maybe they don’t dance at all – they’re content just watching and then putting it on YouTube.

They can throw themselves fully into the most lighthearted of endeavors even as they solemnly and tragically mourn their dead. They will laugh and cry on the same day, because the war does not stop the festivals, and the festivals do not hide the war.
Have a look at this article for pictures of a remembrance ceremony that preceded a major city festival. My pictures were unfortunately lost when my phone was damaged. 

They’ll invite you over for a backyard barbecue on holiday weekends. Or if there’s no backyard, maybe you’ll head out for a picnic in the park, where they will make daytime campfires and set out bottles of wine on a tablecloth adorning an old tree-stump. Or maybe you’ll just people-watch, and admire all the dogs as they walk by.

I am required to say, "the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Ukrainian Government.”