Pictures from the Summer Shotgun Wedding

In July, my friends Serioga and Mariana had themselves a shotgun wedding. The wedding, pulled together in under a month, was a two day affair. The first day was the official ceremony and big reception with some 100 people. The second day was the church ceremony and a smaller reception at Mariana's house with just close friends and family.

(For a full account -- or just a refresher -- of the wedding and its customs, see the post titled Hot Days of Summer.)

Pictures Featured Here:

1. Serioga and Mariana (signing up for the ball and chain) inside the city building.

2. Family and friends outside the building after the deed is done.

3. Me, Sash and Alona with the bride and groom at the reception hall.

4. The best man drinking a shot of vodka out of the bride's "stolen" shoe.

5. Mariana customarily kissing bread held by her mother-in-law.

6. Traditional Ukrainian wedding bread.

7. Mariana, now a woman, holds her veil on the heads of all the single gals as they dance. Does this single gal look familiar to anyone?

8. Roma and the maid of honor crossed dressed and acting like an old married couple on the second day of the wedding.

9. All the friends gathered around the "old married couple." Please take a moment to look closely at "his" crotch.

10. The boys hoisting Mariana and Serioga up in the air on a bench. They hoisted until Serioga "paid ransom" (in this case a bottle of vodka...no real surprise there).

Old Camping Pictures

Here are some old pictures from the summer. In July, on what turned out to be the hottest weekend of the summer, my friends and I decided to go camping. Things didn't go so well. It ended up being so hot and miserable that we only lasted one night.

The first picture is of the boys in the lake. They took a small wooden boat out fishing and, due to the enthusiasm of their singing, drinking and rocking to and fro, managed to sink it. The lake wasn't so deep, so they were able to wade their way through the mud back to the shore. It's hard to see, but they were able to save the vodka.

The second photo is of me with Alona, Anya and Sasha. We were sitting by the campfire drinking, shashleeking and suffering the mosquitos.

The third picture is of me and Alona sitting around the "table."

The fourth, and arguably best, is of Roma as he "tried out" my sleeping bag before we left.

Some Pictures

Here are some pictures from the last few weeks in Bar. The first is Dima wearing the funny glasses that I gave him. The second picture is of me, Roma, Sasha and Alona with Sasha's brother and his friend. We were invited over to Sasha's parent's house to eat pigeon. While there, we engaged in arm wrestling competitions. It was cold.

Gearing Up

It is snowing in Bar today. It's snowing and it's cold and I have a little more than a week left here. Suddenly my life is very surreal.

Last night I went over to Olga's house and had dinner with her parents. Olga, of course, is living in Arizona, studying as an exchange student, and wasn't able to make dinner. It was all right though; I figured she'd be a no show.

My dinner with Anya and Victor was the first of what will soon be many good-bye meals. Friday night I'll be gathering together my best Ukrainian friends for one, final vodka fest. True, I'll still have a week in Bar, but I don't want to have my going away party at the last minute. It'd be too sad. So I'm having it on Friday, at the restaurant Alyanc, while I still have a week to go.

Saturday, following the vodka fest, I'm going to the village with Roma and his family because it's time to kill the pig. I can't really think of a more culturally appropriate thing to do this close to departure. I will not, mind you, be helping or participating in the slaughtering of the pig. I plan to stuff my ears with cotton balls, bury my head under a pillow, and turn the TV up real loud. I've heard the death screams of a pig before and suffice to say, it's not an experience I want to repeat.

However...

I have also tasted the meat of a freshly slaughtered pig and it was downright delicious. Downright delectable. Downright an experience I'll gladly repeat.

Don't judge. You'd like it too.

In other news, it's really no fun moving when you're doing it all alone. Packing, moving, cleaning that final time are all things that I've historically done with friends, or parents. (Good times, right guys?) However, here, I'm flying solo, and for two reasons. One: As nobody I could possibly sucker into helping me has ever flown, let alone moved long distance, they really aren't much help. It takes a lot longer to tell people what to do than to just do it yourself. And two: It's sad, I've found, to pack, or talk about packing, with people who don't want to see me go. So it's a solo act this time around.

The cats definitely know that something is up. Well, that's not true entirely. Klitchko definitely knows that something is up. Phoebe seems relatively oblivious. A few weeks ago, both cats had themselves quit the adventure in Kiev. It was their first time outside my apartment and they were troopers. I took them to the state clinic where they got their rabies shots, their microchips, and their kitty passports.

Due complications with ticketing, I won't be able to bring the cats with me on the plane, so I'm shipping them to San Francisco a day or two before I leave. The logistics are still being worked out, and it'd be a lie to say I'm not stressed out about it, but I know that it'll all work out. No matter how stressed out I am about packing, leaving, saying good-bye, getting the cats home, getting myself and Jason home; no matter how overwhelmed I find myself in the here and now, the truth is that in 14 days, I'll be back in America.

And that truth, in the here and now, is utterly surreal.

Ukrainian Top 5

Top 5 things I love about Ukraine

1. The singing.

One of my favorite memories of living in Bar is being at Sasha and Alona's house. It was Dima's second birthday and everybody significant to him had gathered to celebrate his life. Both sets of grandparents were there, as were cousins, aunts, uncles, godparents and friends. We sat around the table eating and drinking to his health, to his success, to his happiness, to all the goodness awaiting him in life. Towards the end of the evening, as often happens when lots of alcohol has been consumed, everyone started singing. Dima sat on the couch clapping his hands and smiling and I sat at the table trying my hardest to make the moment stand still. I love it when they sing and their voices blend together and it's so beautiful I want to cry. I love that the library of songs is inexhaustible, that everybody knows all of them, and that they have been gathering and singing around the table for generations.

2. The people.

Ukrainians are really good people. They are generous and caring. True, many a Ukrainian has driven me nuts these past two years; but none purposely or knowingly. I was on the train going back to Vinnystia after being in Kiev with my cats and I was sharing a coupe with two middle aged women. First, one snuck me a piece of chocolate. Then the other slid me an apple. Then the first gave me a banana. Then the second offered me some salami. It was very Ukrainian. No matter how much or how little they have, they will always offer it to a stranger.


3. The language.

As challenging as it has been, I have really come to love living in another language. There is something very amazing and beautiful about communicating with someone in their native language. I was at the store buying fruit yesterday when the saleswoman asked me if I was from Poland. No, I said, I'm American. She looked at me, smiled and said, "You're American? And you speak our language? That's wonderful." And it is.

4. Shashleeking.

Nothing beats rounding up all your friends, heading to the woods and having a BBQ. Nothing beats sitting around a picnic blanket, drinking vodka, eating meat, playing soccer or cards. Nothing beats looking around at the rolling hills and seeing a herd of cows off in the distance. Nothing beats a Ukrainian shashleek.


5. The cultural moments.

I love that Ukraine is Ukraine. It's not America, it's not Russia, it's not any other country. It's distinctly itself, and I love it. I love the cultural moments that result from it. Two weeks ago, I had my end of service medical exam. I was shocked, and a bit aghast, to learn that I have gained 17 pounds since coming here. When I told Roma, he responded: "That's great! See how you gained weight in Ukraine!" Later, Roma said to his mom, "Guess how much weight Sheryl has gained in Ukraine?" And later, his mom told Oksansa, and Oksana told her boyfriend. Just this week, as we sat around a dinner table with a bunch of friends, Roma nudged me and asked, "How much weight did you gain in Ukraine?" And then proceeded to tell everyone my news. I had to smile to myself because it was one of those cultural moments that is so not American, and so worth the smile.

Soon

Jason flies over in 18 days. That's pretty unbelievable, 18 days. He was originally flying out to help me get my cats home but due to extenuating circumstances, the cats will be shipped early. So now, Jason is flying out to help get me home. And truthfully, I'll need the help. It's going to be really hard for me to leave.

I love Ukraine, and Bar, and living here. My experience has been amazing and remarkable, this last year in particular. And the truth is, though I'm ready to go back to America, I'm also really apprehensive. More apprehensive I'd say, than I was about coming to Ukraine.

Two years ago, when I was getting ready to join the Peace Corps, I had no idea what I was getting myself into; but I at least knew where I was going. The scariest thing about leaving here is that I don't know, specifically and concretely, what will be. I hate not knowing.

I worry about readjusting to life in America because I haven't just volunteered in Bar, I've lived in Bar. I have friends. I have family. I have Roma. I have so much to be thankful for and it's going to be really sad to leave it