I'm reviewing the situation*

Two funny anecdotes from this week about the problems of misperception:

On Tuesday, I was talking with Serhii Danilovitch, the music teacher at school. We were discussing everything from my fast-approaching departure to the European Union. He said to me, "Two years ago, when you came to Balaklia with a lot of luggage [suitcase, duffel, heater, backpack, computer bag, and I don't remember what else], we all thought, 'Oh, she brought all sorts of clothes...the latest in American fashions.' But instead, you had books and a laptop!" I laughed. "Yeah, I brought teaching supplies, because I knew it would be hard to find English books." "Who needs a lot of clothes anyway?" he said. It was funny, because anyone who knows me knows that when it comes to my priorities, books rank much, much higher than clothes...but that's not the stereotype that people here see in American pop culture. So that made me happy, that I've helped break down the idea that all Americans are highly fashion-conscious.

Although I do wonder if some of my girls were actually disappointed that I didn't have all sorts of new fashionable clothes.

The other story goes back to when Brandi was here. I was at school one day, when the secretary came down to the teachers' room and said, "Your landlady's coming by to get the key to your apartment." Land gentry (to use the term that Tif and I coined) in Ukraine can come into your apartment whenever they please...they don't have to give advance notice nor make sure that you're there. The landlady didn't come, and half an hour later, the secretary came back down and said, "You need to go home. The landlady called again and said that there's someone there who won't let her in." Knowing that Brandi was home, I thought that there must have been some sort of communication breakdown, so I headed home. Three-quarters of the way there, I met Brandi coming to school to get me. She had, in fact, told the landlady through gestures and a phrasebook that she and her male companion could come in, but the woman had seemed very upset about something. Brandi had tried to say that I'd be home soon and that she could go get me, but the woman didn't seem to understand anything that she was trying to get across. Brandi thought that perhaps I was getting evicted so that my landlady's son could move into the apartment.

By the time I got to the apartment, the landlady and her companion were gone. The across-the-hall neighbor assured me that I wasn't getting evicted, but I didn't understand what she said about what had actually happened. And therein ended Chapter One.

Yesterday morning, I ran into my friend Natalia at the bazaar. She apparently knows my landlady's family, and said that in fact, it had been my landlady's daughter-in-law who had come to scope out the place because they're moving in at some point after I leave in December. The daughter-in-law had never met me, and therefore assumed that Brandi was me. Apparently she said to Natalia that she was confused, because she thought I knew at least rudimentary Russian/Ukrainian, and she couldn't figure out how on earth I managed to teach the kids at school when I all I could say in Russian was, "I don't understand." I know that Brandi tried to let her know that I was at school, but if she had already made up her mind that Brandi was me, I guess Brandi's talk of school probably confused her all the more.

So there you have it...why you should always make sure of your facts before drawing conclusions!

*Bonus points to whoever knows what musical my post title is from.

Polish numbering, Carpathian mountains, and a Ukrainian Greenfield Village

The most pleasant train ride yet of my journey was the Odesa-L'viv journey of 12 hours last night. I shared a compartment with a young woman who'd been volunteering at a children's camp in Turkey and spoke English, and a mother and son (college age). The three of us young people spent much of the evening chatting, teaching each other card games, and playing Battleship on grid paper.

Funny story about the train. I was in Car 17, but the train only went up to 14. Asking a nearby conductor at the Odesa station, she told me, "It's the last car down there, past Car 1." Bemused, I went down there, trying to find Seat 96 when the seats only went to 36. Since my conductor had told me I was in the last compartment, I figured it out. Later on, someone else in my compartment asked the conductor why the numbering was strange. "It's the Polish way of numbering," the conductor answered, to which the questioner replied, "They count differently there?" Jason, feel free to chuckle. I thought of you.

I'd been a bit concerned, because the woman at the train station in Kharkiv where I'd bought my tickets had told me that I'd have to change trains in L'viv, and I knew I only had 20 minutes. As it turned out, I didn't have to change trains. The train changed numbers (from 108 to 107--more Polish numbering?), and I had to change compartments, as I had a second-class ticket for the first part and third-class for the second. I don't know why the woman couldn't have told me earlier that I'd be on the same train...I understand that apparently there weren't spots for one class or the other that were free the entire trip when I bought my tickets.

The ride from L'viv to Uzhgorod was beautiful. We went through the Carpathian mountains, which were full of hamlets composed of cottages, haystacks, and little Orthodox churches. I made the mistake of starting on a practice GRE before we really got to the mountains, with the result that neither got the attention it deserved. But I loved the mountains. The train went through several, via tunnels!

Uzhgorod is actually on the other side of the Carpathians, as best as I can tell. It's a charming small city that reminds me of when my missions trip to Cologne two summers ago (is that all?) took a day trip to a German town. The streets are hilly and cobblestoned, and the buildings are beautiful, with several old churches. This afternoon, after a lovely shower at the place I'm staying, I went up to an old castle, which now houses a historical museum of the Transcarpathian Oblast. After that, I went to an outdoor museum composed of various houses and other buildings from various cultures that have lived here--very much a Greenfield Village sort of place, except that the people didn't wear costumes.

Tomorrow, I'm meeting the secretary from Wesley Bible College, and on Sunday, I'm leaving late enough (there was only one train available, so it wasn't like there was a choice, unless I left at 4 am) that I can attend the Methodist church here.

Saturday school

Tomorrow is Saturday. We have school tomorrow.

This is one of those Ukrainian things I don't understand. Because next Thursday is International Women's Day, we don't have school on Thursday. Just this week, the administration decided that we wouldn't have school next Friday either, and so on Wednesday, told us that we have school this Saturday.

I'm not sure which is weirder, school on Saturday or the fact that the decision was made last-minute. In the US, we get a little calendar at the beginning of the year with all the days off we'll have, and bad weather is the only thing that changes this.

Odd.

~*~

So I have a boyfriend who can stop a lesson dead in its tracks. My 10th form has been after me for a while to bring in a picture of Jason, and I'd finally remembered today. I told them that at the end of the lesson I'd show it to them, assuming that there would be questions and not wanting to break up the lesson, and we'd have a good finish to the class.

Well, our schedule got changed around today, so Nelya was with the 8th form while I was with the 10th form, and the kids didn't want to work. So they closed their books, refused to do anything (except for Oleksi, my good boy), and demanded to see the picture. Not feeling inclined to let 15-year-olds run my life or my lessons, I said, "Not until the end of the lesson. Please open your books and do exercise 5." They said no, and argued that if I would just show them the picture, they'd be good and go back to work. I know these kids. Highly unlikely. So then they blamed me for wasting time. I waited. Finally, they got back to work, and at the end of the lesson, we had "show-and-tell"--Maryna, my biggest pest, was quite taken with Jason, and people had good questions about how long I was in Ukraine, did I know other Americans here, etc.

~*~

Funny moment: Andrey, my oh-so-worried-about-everything 4th former, when the other kids were being bad, stood up and told them that they were being disobedient, that I was a good teacher, and that they should listen to me. You gotta love a kid like that, even when he asks you multiple times if you'll be in class today and what the homework was.