post 29 march: ooh la-hover-la-la!

This week brought a few miscellaneous items, one small story, and one big story.

Miscellaneous:

- This morning, I saw a graffiti-ed message on a meat-selling kiosk/ trailer/ tiny shop. It wasn’t the fact that there was graffiti that surprised me, as this is sometimes the case. It was the fact that the message was in English and, more than that, used a word that most Ukrainians have never heard of. “Go vegan!” This is a country where vegetarians are often interrogated and also assumed to eat fish [which isn’t meat, as it’s explained], and I’ve found myself explaining what a vegan is and what a vegetarian is many times. Although this sign came in the form of graffiti, which is, of course, disrespectful and illegal, I couldn’t help but get a little thrill from seeing the message.

- Another new sign of the season is the appearance of lines of tiny multi-colored plastic cones, one in front of the university and one in the center. Upon long-term study, these lines turn out to be courses used by weaving kids on skates. Summer is coming!

- I love carrot-apple salad. My host mom used to make it, and now Kate makes it. Shred apples, shred carrots, and serve. Raisins [or, if you live in the land of supermarket bounty, craisins] are optional, as is a little oil. [This may be the land of milk and honey, but we don’t have everything else!]

One small story:

- Last week I had a sort-of lesson/ hang-out session with a 2 ½ -year old. Artemchik [i.e., little Artem] is on his way to learning English at a local language school. He knows the numbers from one to ten in English, Ukrainian, and Russian, can identify a watch versus a clock, and knows all kinds of other things to say, among others, “broken chair,” “fruit”, “vegetable”, “calculator”, “glitter”, various animal names, and my favorite, “not yet”, which is not yet used correctly in all situations, but which was pretty entertaining as an answer to a variety of queries. He’s picking up language quickly from his regular tutors/ hang-out crew, and they’re interested in having me spend some time with him so he can pick up some special native-speaker vibes. We’ll see. That’s pretty far out of my area of expertise, but of course I’m trying to be flexible and helpful. Really, though, he’s so small! Luckily, he’s really cute and well-mannered, and he’s even more fascinated than I am by the school’s old-fashioned green typewriter.

One big story:

- This weekend, I went on a big trip to Mount Hoverla, the highest point in all of Ukraine. Hoverla is located in the Carpathians, in the southern part of western Ukraine, almost at the border with Romania. This hike was coordinated by Eco Mercy, an NGO, and organized for Volunteers by Catherine Duchok, the PCV who works with Eco Mercy.

The adventure started with an afternoon bus ride to Lviv for a crew of four, then dinner and mingling in the city with lots of other spontaneously appearing PCVs. At the train station, I felt like almost every American I know in this country was gathered. It was like a strange dream in which you keep turning corners in a strange maze and seeing people you know. Catharine’s Mickey Mouse/ Ukrainian flag/ American flag combo-on-a-stick was the gathering point, and we all picked up our tickets and headed to our special train, reserved for this occasion. Two entire train cars were dedicated to the Peace Corps Volunteers taking part, as well as a few other international volunteers.

Our hotel on wheels arrived around 4:30 a.m., and we were allowed to sleep until about 6, when it was time to get ready and head out to buses and leave by 7. These crowded buses took us to the start of the park, where we got checked in and excited, then back onto the buses to the start of the on-foot portion of the trip. This was a single-lane road, more or less, and fairly easy going. The trees were tall and beautiful, the roadside stream carved its way through snow, and all seemed well. I had been told by friends that this would not be a difficult hike, and that the most difficult part would be waiting for all the people in front of me to move. A water break, some pictures, the appearance of snow, and progress, aided and entertained by my friend Rebecca, of the fair city of Frederick, Maryland.

Finally, as the road grew steeper, we arrived at a resort of sorts, where many people were gathered, souvenirs were being sold, and patient thumb-wrestling was going on. We were shuffled into groups, sort of, and then headed up by twos, sort of, onto the trail—at last! The trail was a somewhat invisible path through woods, helped by tree roots and hindered by ice and snow. This was somewhat difficult, but not unreasonable. Still, we mushed onward. Time passed. Eventually, we were almost out of the literal woods, but hardly out of the figurative woods. Above, we saw a steep expanse of snow and ice, punctuated by protrusions of low, scraggly bushes. Now, after a brief respite at the waiting area, we went marching one by one [hoorah! hoorah!] up the steep incline. I spent a long time looking at Jonathan’s shoes, marveling that he was wearing sneakers on such an expedition. Behind me, Ben was probably marveling that I was wearing totally the wrong boots for such an expedition. Truly, I did not pack my bags to Ukraine with this climb in mind [“Make sure you bring plenty of professional clothing; appearance counts!”].

Beside our single-file line, as we stuck our feet into the footholds planted by those before us, a random assortment of rushers [not Russian] hurried up at their own pace. This included a group of police cadets on some sort of training adventure. Good for them, fine, but really, we needed to keep our own morale up—couldn’t they do this somewhere else? Still, there it was: the ridge that marked our triumph! We were almost at the top! Burning legs threatened to cramp up, but still managed to crest to the flat landing… and then a sudden crestfallen realization… This seeming plateau was simply the lower summit, a foyer to the real summit, which lay ahead, swirling in snow and icy distance. Come on! So, we did the only thing we could do. We had a picnic.

After our picnic, it was decided—by our guide, and our semi-reluctant selves—that we would try to go up to the top. We crossed the comfortably semi-flat field that led to the base of this summit, and started the climb up the rocky, icy, pathless way. The wind was intense and the snow was hitting my face. At a certain point, it became clear that my shoes and my ski pole-less self were not adequately prepared for this situation. When those ahead in my group were turned back—the summit was too icy for anyone but professionals—I turned back, too, after a few oh-man-I’m-really-far-up-here pictures.

Then, suddenly, I was at the edge of the steep and snowy slope, with full realization of the challenge of descending this expanse suddenly descending on me. “Come on,” said Rebecca. “We can go with Abby and Margot—they have sticks! We’ll all go together.” “I don’t know,” I said. “I think I’ll just wait.” What? Wait for what? Summer?

Going down was really stressful, with a bunch of slips and two big falls. Suffice it to say that I was—and still am—extremely grateful to be helped by so many people. Our crew of four made it a good part of the way together, and Margot stuck by me until we finally got to the woods. I give her credit for stopping me from sitting and sliding when it seemed like we were soooo close to the bottom. “I’m not letting you do that,” she said. “We’ve seen how that worked out for you before.” Truly, it was an ugly sight. On the second big fall, with no way to stop myself, I was saved by Terry, who miraculously appeared from nowhere. I’m sure he would have done the same for anyone, but it was nice that it was someone I know well, from Lutsk, who rescued me. He’s from Colorado—as so many of my friends here seem to be—and has climbed many mountains that completely dwarf this one, and here, seemed very comfortable and able to think about things like taking pictures and rescuing tumbling climbers.

So, back into the woods—with a surprisingly delicious hardboiled egg reward [thanks, Rebecca!]—, down the mountain—with only one more fall—, past the hotel, and back on the road with Shannon and Rebecca. Pleasant conversation made the seemingly endless road and the somewhat unpleasant rain much more bearable. Back onto the bus at the bottom, back to the train to change into warm clothes, and then to dinner in a little café in town. I was so excited to have borscht without meat! Possibly this was simply due to the fact that it’s now Lent, and many people aren’t supposed to eat meat, but I took it as a personal reward for my efforts and survival. After dinner, we got back onto the train, chatted, wondered about how sore we would be in the morning, and fell asleep, exhausted, soon after the train took off.

After only a few hours of sleep, the lights came on and the conductor walked through the aisle to wake us up. I checked the time: it was 3:10. What? We were supposed to get into Lviv around 6. What? There must be some mistake. Let’s go back to sleep. Slowly, we collectively realized that: a) we were actually close to Lviv, and b) the time had changed. What a horrible time for us to spring forward! [The time change here was two weeks later than in the US.] We arrived at the train station in Lviv a little after 5, then waited for the city buses to start running so our sleepy crew could get on the first bus to Lutsk. Yawn.

Was it an adventure? Yes. Was it beautiful there? Yes. Did I fear for my life at times? Yes. Am I glad I went? Yes. Would I go again? Hmm…

I will say that one of the things I definitely took from the experience was the need to accept help from others, and to work together. So often I feel that I want to do something totally on my own, and that it’ll be better if I accomplish whatever it is independently. Still, it turns out that I am not an expert mountain climber [shocker!], and I really would have been foolish to go it alone at any stage of this trip. We can’t all be the best at everything all the time, and there’s no shame in asking for help. There’s no shame in accepting help, either, especially when it’s absolutely necessary for your survival. Will I be able to take this lesson to heart in other ventures? I hope so. Really, heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped me so much this weekend: Rebecca, Margot, Abby, Terry, Shannon… Thanks to them, I’m not still sitting on that way-high picnic ground waiting for summer!

:)