Tomorrow I get my cat! (I think)

Today Larissa instructed her 9th form students to bring their kittens to school tomorrow so I can choose a cat. I'm very, VERY excited about finally getting my little Vitally Klitchko, as I've decided to name him. (In honor of the champion Ukrainian boxer who ran for Mayor of Kiev in this last election.) I've spent the afternoon searching Bar high and low for cat litter. I know I can get it in Vinnystia, but I've yet to be able to locate it here.

Classes were only 30 minutes today because today the students did spring cleaning at the school. They cleaned both the outside and the inside of the school top to bottom. I didn't participate in the great spring cleaning. I was told to go home and take a rest.

On Saturday I went to Kiev and met a bunch of my friends. We rented an apartment not far from the center of the city. Then we spent the day pretending we were in America. We went to the underground mall that has shops like Puma and Adidas and Timberland; I bought a bag full of gummy snacks from a candy stand; we ate small cups of Baskin Robbins ice-cream from the food court; I enjoyed a burger and had a salad WITH REAL LETTUCE!! for dinner; it was incredible. It was nice to explore Kiev as a tourist with my friends. It was the first time I'd ever been to the city for myself and not for some sort of peace corps business.

I came back home on Sunday. I caught the one o'clock train from Kiev to Vinnystia. It was a beautiful train ride. I'd never seen the country-side between here and Kiev before because I'd either traveled at night or with people who didn't open the curtain on the train; but this time I sat right by the window and stared out the whole time. It's amazing to travel out of Kiev, where there is every modern convenience imaginable and to pass through small villages where people live off the land and get around on carts pulled by horses. There's such a broad spectrum of the way lives are led here.

The bus ride back to Bar was funny. A young mother sat next to me. She had her infant son in one arm and bags of goods in the other. Attatched to her baby's wrist was a HUGE dalmation balloon. It was probably four times the size of her baby. As she sat down next to me, the balloon bonked me in the head repeatedly making a hallow thumping noise. We laughed because it was funny. Then the static of the balloon kept drawing out strands of my hair so that it looked like I'd rubbed the balloon on my head and purposefully made myself look like Albert Einstein. Then, halfway to Bar, the balloon popped. It was loud and made a woman in the back of the bus squeal. The driver screetched to a stop thinking he'd hit something. The mother apologized, turned beat red and started whispering condolences to her baby-- as if he'd even remember ever having a huge dalmation balloon tied to his wrist.