The Russian Orthodox Church

There is an orthodox church with a beautiful view nestled in the Crimean Mountains on the way to Yalta. In all the orthodox churches that we visited, we were required to cover our heads and were given skirts to wear over our jeans.





This is a monastery in Bakcheserai where there is literally a cave city in which the Tatars lived The Tatars are a Muslim group living in Crimea. Ironic that the monastery is Orthodox and situated within the Tatar community.

Why would a girl fly all the way to Ukraine?

The man thong.

We made a day trip to Yalta where we visited two palaces, one of them being the palace at which Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt met for the Yalta Conference. Though the sites were interesting, nothing compared to the site that I so generously share with all of you.

I Like Those Older Men

We arrived in Sevastopol at 7am this morning and then went to Krista’s small Russian church. Sevastopol is more Russian than Ukrainian, since it was founded by Katherine the Great as a Russian military navy port.

After church, the father of one of Krista’s friends said he would drive us (in his Mercedes) to the center of the city so that we could see some of the sites. Driving in Ukraine is rather aggressive and I find myself holding on to the back of the seat as Ukrainians drive insanely fast. So as we tore through the streets of Sevastopol, the father was asking Krista a lot of questions about me. When we arrived at our destination he got out and kept hugging me, making suggestive comments, and then tried to kiss me. It was extremely awkward and my two friends were laughing…and are still laughing because it was such an awkward situation. They wouldn’t have been laughing if it had been them, but because it was me it was rather entertaining. They did say that I handled it an extremely graceful way, so I guess that is worth something.
His name is Vova, he is about 60 and he is hoping that he can meet me in Vietnam soon.

Sevastopol

In route....for 20 hours on a train.

Sevastopol in the Crimea peninsula

Kiev

Day One in Kiev

I began my day with two challenges to overcome: to buy food and find my package from Hope at the post office with no tracking number.

Since all the menus at the restaurants and cafes are in Russian (with no pictures), I thought it would be best to find a grocery store. I stopped several different women to ask them but no one spoke English so I had to resort to charades. You have no idea how humbling it is to try to act out finding food on a shelf, buying it, and then eating it. The first lady had no idea what I was trying to say and just walked away and the second lady understood but then gave me directions in Russian which I didn't understand. So I decided to wander around to see if I might have any luck. Two minutes into my wandering, I found a place with various food vendors inside. Challenge number one accomplished.

I went to the central post office and no one spoke English but after I motioned to them that I didn't want to send a package but receive one, I was given another address. Luckily, I found a guy who spoke some English and he was able to tell me what metro stop to get off on. When I arrived there was no package and I was told to call the next day (though I have no idea how because they don't speak English and I don't speak Russian). When I arrived at my place, I had a package slip stuck in the door. I returned to the central post office, where it had been the whole time. Challenge number two accomplished.

Some interesting observations. PDA is completely okay here...and a bit disturbing. The underground crossways are a great place for couples to find some time for a little intimacy before they go on their way. However, nothing prepared me to witness some young teenagers "attempting" to have sex in one of the dark corners. I thought it would be a great picture for my blog, but I refrained from capturing the moment. Another interesting observation was an outside cafe that gave their customers blankets. You would think that people would choose to sit inside instead of sharing their romantic dinner with their loved one in an outside courtyard wrapped in a blanket.

My Arrival in Kiev

I was picked up by the "driver" of the company that organized my housing. He was a tall lanky young guy, who seemed a bit nervous or just a bit socially awkward. He had been waiting a while for me because I was helping Mai get through passport control. So with a big smile, he took one of my bags and off we went to his VW van. I practically had to run to keep up with him. He kept trying to make conversation and told me about his trips to Germany...he was a bit discouraged that I didn't speak German and confessed his love for big German vehicles. So far I'm fascinated by the city and I'm looking forward to exploring tomorrow. However, tonight, a good night's rest is calling my name.

I Have No Idea What You Are Saying

This is what I kept repeating over and over today as I had a TEN HOUR layover in Moscow. First of all, I'm usually pretty good about details so how did I fail to notice that I would have a ten hour layover? Anyway, I landed in Moscow at 7am. I couldn't leave the airport because I didn't have a visa and I was dressed for the hot humid weather in Hanoi. It was going to be a long 10 hours in the airport.

So I get off the plane and follow the signs to transfer/transit. When I arrive, it is crowded with people with just a few airport staff present. Everyone is standing around without being processed in order to move out of the foyer into passport control. I went up to one of the ladies behind the counter to ask her where exactly I was supposed to be and she kept telling me things in Russian, which I obviously couldn't understand. When I tried to explain in English and motion to her that I had no idea what she was saying. She rolled her eyes and motioned me to sit over on the side. So, I waited another two hours, going up to different people and all of them telling me things in Russian and motioning me to sit in the waiting area. I felt like people didn't like me very much and I didn't do anything!

I happened to see a girl who looked as lost as I was. She was Vietnamese; I recognized her from my flight. I asked her in Vietnamese where she was going and she told me she was on her way to see her mother in Kiev. She was also having trouble understanding how we were to get from the transit lounge to the terminal. She didn't speak Russian or English, so I tried my best to find out answers for the both of us and trying to translate it back into Vietnamese. Finally at about 10 am (3 hours later), I happened to find someone who spoke English and she was able to issue the tickets we needed to enter the terminal area.

So for 10 hours, Mai and I, tried to pass the time away. It was good for my Vietnamese language practice and it made the time go by quicker. Mai is 21 and I was so surprised that she was traveling alone. She was a little nervous traveling by herself so it was good that we bumped into one another so that we could go through the whole process together.

She was on a flight that left an hour and a half earlier than mine so we said our goodbyes in Moscow. However, when I arrived in Kiev I found Mai with tears in her eyes stuck at passport control. She explained that they had taken her passport and she had no idea what was happening. The poor girl. She had no idea what was going on but only that they wouldn't let her out of the airport and she had no way to contact her mother. I tried to find someone to explain what the problem was and finally figured out that they feared that she wouldn't return to Vietnam because she had an open ended return. However, we were able to get a hold of her mother and things were worked out. I waited with her until they finally processed all her paperwork and thank God, finally let her go through.

Jose

Sportin' New Wheels

I'm hoping that my bad motorized vehicular karma has seen its end and that I might be able to keep this one for a while.

A French Rock Concert

The interesting things that I find myself doing while living in Hanoi.

Meeting the Future In-Laws

I went to Vinh, a city about 5 and half hours south of Hanoi, to meet the future in-laws. Fortunately, they weren’t mine. My good friend, Ngan, asked me to be there with her for the moral support as she traveled to meet the family of her boyfriend. This visit is part of the engagement process of every Vietnamese couple. This meeting determines whether the parents will allow the relationship to continue or force it to stop so there is a lot of pressure.

As we entered the house, I became the main attraction…like a special freak show. While the mom and granny caressed my body to see whether or not it felt the same as theirs, Ngan charmed the rest of the family. She was great and they would be insane not to have been impressed by her. I was glad that I could be there for such an important event in my friend’s life and now we have another special memory to reminisce on later in life.

Toto, I'm Not in Hanoi Anymore

Some things that have surprised me on my travel to the South
1. The people in general are friendlier. There seems to be more laughing and smiling and they are always interested in just talking with you...even if you aren't buying anything from them.
2. Lotteria and KFC, fast food restaurants are all over the place. Its actually a little sad because the sidewalk cafe/restaurant, that became my parent's favorite when they came to visit, no longer exists but has been replaced by a large two-story Lotteria.
3. You can get a crazy looking sunburn when you ride on the back of a motorbike during the noon hour. I have a sunburn on half of my right knee and a strange strip on my left shoulder (I was wearing a skirt so sitting side-saddle).
4. Beware of the area behind the bus stop because it is a popular place for male urination...if only I had known prior....
5. There are men in uniform that help foreigners cross the busy roads!

The Quote of the Week

Tommy...yes, this would be a student who wanted to have an English name reflecting his strong resemblance to Tom Cruise. Tommy was in high school when I was teaching in Quy Nhon and is now studying at a university in Ho Chi Minh City. He is like a younger brother to me in many ways. However, he is super intense and has wanted to spend every waking hour with me since my plane landed in Ho Chi Minh City six days ago. I was touched to go to his small room where he lives and see pictures of me from when I lived in Quy Nhon.

I have the quote of not only the week but could be of the year. As I was riding on the back of his motorbike, Tommy says: "Do you think I'm so dark now?" I replied, that I hadn't really noticed. He then explained that when he returns to Quy Nhon everyone comments about how dark his skin is. "Yes, it is okay because my dark skin shows I'm stronger now. I'm strong because I live outside of my house without my parents (His parents live in Quy Nhon so he lives alone in HCMC). "I once was a young princess but now I'm a man!" Of course, he meant to say that he was like a young prince, or that he was naive and childlike.

Sometimes my life slows down a bit and I feel guilty for not being more productive and then I over commit and I’m frustrated because I can not give my all or my best to what I have committed to. It is a vicious cycle. In all reality, it is my relationships that I want to make sure do not get the shaft. I thought I had learned this lesson before, but I find myself in the same place over and over again.

This past month has been packed with a variety of things—special seminars to teach, visitors from Hope to evaluate my situation, the return of my roommate (after almost 2 months of being away), dates and pampering from my favorite Puerto Rican at the US Embassy, another “Les Runaways” performance, Easter games and activities, my doctorate research proposal being accepted at the University of Melbourne, and the list goes on.

Pictures are of my friend Ngan and I, Face painting at Easter, and Jose and Scot working the craft booth.

A Trip to Bac Ninh

I just returned from a visit to Bac Ninh, a province near Hanoi. It is the hometown of the Dean of my department. He invited me to go with him to see his house and enjoy the fresh air of the countryside. He conveniently asked a man with a car (very few people own cars here) to come with us…and meet the “available” American teacher. I had the longest, most awkward time of my life. Since the Dean needed to take care of “family business,” he had this guy show me some of the sites of Bac Ninh. With his broken English, he tried to point out some different sites in addition to confessing his undying love for me. He kept buying me little gifts, trying to hold my hand, and asking what he must do to be my boyfriend. Awkward! I didn’t tell him that he needed to grow about a foot taller, learn English, and tweeze his fountain-o-sprout facial hairs that grew from his chin and neck. You gotta give it to the guy for having the courage, but when I was the last person to be dropped off (the lone drive from the Dean’s house to mine was supposed to take 20 minutes but took an hour because he stopped different places to buy me flowers and take his sweet time because “he didn’t want the time to end”), I wasn’t his biggest fan.

Though the creepy guy was not so fun, Bac Ninh was wonderful to visit. The pictures are from the temple of the Ly Dynasty and then a picture with the Dean.

The Power of Gesture

In my classes, I require the students to give professional business presentations, in which they must include a visual aid. Last Wednesday, a student was presenting and after a comment made by a classmate, he decided to respond by using, what he thought was a universal gesture for you’re lying, and flipped him off. There are days when I feel like I’m not really getting through to my students. I guess I can feel confident that the students who complete my course can use effective visual aids.

I was driving my motorbike with Ngan, my Vietnamese friend, and as I began to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant that we were going to, they pointed me to the other side of the road because there was no room. In the midst of traffic, I had to abandon my first thought to turn left, stop, and move to the right. Well, I obviously ticked off some guy behind me and all I heard was something, something, “Tay” (which is the word for Westerner). He stuck his fist in the air at me. However, it made me laugh because though he was trying to gesture that he was mad and would like to punch me for my bad driving skills, he had his thumb sticking up, which to me communicated, “Yeah, thumbs up, you’re okay!” I was able to assure Ngan that was what he really meant.

St. Patrick's Day

Our band performed at an Irish Pub for St. Patty's Day and though I was sick with a cold and we had some technical problems, it turned out to be okay. The place was packed with tourists, so few were there to actually see the band but were just out celebrating. However, fun was had by all. I was able to break it down with my egg shaker...so what else could the night require?

Yankee

It seems that as of recent I continue to run into Australians wherever I go. I find myself in situations where I’m the only American in a crowd of Aussies. No complaints, though, as everyone I have met thus far have been great and a lot of fun. Maybe it is just preparing me for studying there, if I decide to go that route. On a train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, half of my section on the train consisted of Aussies. I became endearingly known as their “Little Yankee Friend.” I joined a group of middle-aged men for a beer in the dinning car because they wouldn’t take no for an answer…and though I don’t really like the taste of beer, I decided to be a trooper and down one for the boys. One of the men had lived in Southern Vietnam as a project manager for an engineering company. We shared our woes mixed with our fascination with Vietnam.

Later when I went back to my compartment, next to me was a guy who had a strange mixture of an American and Australian accent. He would say, “I reckon” and talk about what he did after “uni” (college). His story is rather interesting. He is from Boston but immigrated to Australia a couple years ago and now is a tomato farmer in a rural area in Northern Australia. I was intrigued how a guy from Boston ended up in Australia as a tomato farmer and so he kept me entertained by his story for a good hour. I’ve told him that I’d come and pick some tomatoes for him if I ever make it to Australia. It is not everyday that you meet an Australian tomato farmer from Boston.