1. The smell of the latrine outside my building. Nothing says summer like the stewing smell of a latrine in the heat; makes me feel like Girl Scout Camp all over again. Thanks for the nostalgia friendly neighbor you make waking up at 7 and walking to school that much more like childhood.
2. My first trip back within Ukraine was of course my marshrutka ride home. . . my second was, of course, the tram. Yes, we're back to the beloved tram story. Well, there are two the first was my first tram ride back in country where my tram stopped in the middle of the busiest intersection in town in terms of marshrutka and tram crosspaths. Why you may wonder did my tram stop. Oh, because some one got a little lazy parking and crossed over into the tram line so of course we couldn't move. THe best part really isn't that my tram stopped for so long. It was that my tram driver just laid on the bell, as in ding ding ding goes the trolley bell. After about five minutes of that not working (I know you're shocked) She just decided to get out; so did about half the elderly male population. Some of them tried to move teh car adrenaline style, that didn't work and it set off the alarm. Which also didn't work to call the guy out. Mostly, because everyone in Ukraine has the same generic car alarm anyway. So, after about 7-10 minutes of waiting the guy whose car it is finally gets in and gets it going; old men and trolley driver yelling the whole time. These old men, best part, not even wanting to ride on the tram. After we got going they just kept walking on their way. Thanks for help trying to move the tram dudes I appreciate it!
2b. Tram story number two (don't these make you want to ride the tram) I am riding the tram home from Blythe's and a guy gets on about 2 stops before I get off the tram and sits in front of me he keeps looking back (I figure he's doing it because there's an African guy on the tram and Ukrainians tend to stare at minorities) I'm as always enjoying the soundtrack that is my ipod. I get off the tram and I here some one yelling, "excuse me, excuse me miss, Sorry miss," in Ukrainian. I ignore my soundtrack is going I like to speed walk home it's a nice slightly downhill walk where I don't have to watch out for much (except for the obstacles soon to be mentioned in story 3). So then, I feel a grab at my arm and pull away quickly releasing myself. The guy apologizes and says excuse me about 50 times interrupted by a few good evenings in the middle of the excuse me's. He then tells me not to worry because he's already on his way back to the tram because his stop is actually three stops later (reassuring, sir, reassuring) it definitely makes someone seem less creepy when they tell you not to worry they were just following you off the tram. So he explains that he saw me on the tram and had to follow me off because he felt this desire to get to know me and he's already leaving to get back on the tram but if he could just have my number we could get to know each other. What is my response, "I'm sorry I don't understand you." in my thickest american accent. And so what is the logical response to that obviously, "where are you from?" asked of course in Ukraine. I respond not here (like here like literally this place where I'm standing) he goes, what do you mean not here, I respond not from this place I'm standing not from lviv. I, then, proceed to walk away. He proceeds to not go back to the tram as he promised but instead follows me by about a block behind towards my normally quiet and peaceful walk home.
3. Summer brings a lot of things, new crops of fruit and veggies, new flowers, new weather, new spirit and apparently new roadkill. I know you all really enjoyed the series of suicidal ginger cats. It seems that dead pigeon season has hit lviv. I've counted no less than 8 dead pigeons on my walk to school, tram, center, etc. the past 2 weeks. Thanks Uraine you've really taught me to recognise and appreciate seasonal change, what will I do when I go back to the US without all these markers.
4. Ukrainian men think that summer means that they can approach you and talk to you. Even if you tell them you don't understand anything they're saying and even if they're with their girlfriend. Note story number 2b. Second recommendation: Blythe and I are shopping in the Lviv Opera Market buying some fresh cherries and strawberries (another seasonal sign of summer) and a drunk man is behind us in line. Normally, this is nothing really to worry about but he does stumble a bit so I tell blythe to move closer to me just in case. He notices that I pull blythe over and says, "sorry girls." we ignore and go on our way thinking we are clear of drunk man. We head to the indoor market where he proceeds to stare at us. Blythe tends to get a little more unnerved than I do. So we high tail it out of the market and head towards lunch. We take some winding paths to avoid another creeper on the street who has grabbed me before in public (it's always nice to recognise the creepy men who grab you by face and location! why hello sir, nice to see your aggressively wandering hands again. No but seriously, stay away) So, about 10 minutes later we decide on a place to sit and who comes up but our creepy drunk starer from the market. He sits down and stares you know normal. We are then approached by an ice cream vendor offering us two ice creams as a present. Blythe being the ever keen observer noticed that the creepy man had bought them. what then ensues is an exchange between us and the ice cream. Us saying no thank you, him saying please take them I don't want to throw them away etc. While it is extremely hot out sir, buying an ice cream really makes you seem like a stranger danger sit from kindergarten, but thanks for the gesture. Still not taking it.
4b. Waiting for Blythe at the market a man in a bright orange shirt comes up to me. He goes on a long speech whatever *please note I was wearing my ipod headphones. I tell him I don't understand what he's saying. He apologizes saying that I look sooooo much like a Ukrainian girl he never would've known (not necessarily a compliment). I tell him I don't speak Ukrainian well, he tries in Russian, that doesn't work either. It's a pretty normal exchange minus him telling me how happy he is to meet an American. The only weird thing is he is with his girlfriend like I'm kind of looking at her sometimes as she stands off in the corner and then he asks for my number. I'm not really sure how these things work here in a lot of ways but I'm pretty sure asking for a chicks' number in front of your girlfriend it's pretty inappropro. Holding her hand while walking away makes it awkward for me. . .
And, so, I'm back to the glories of Ukrainian life, including summer uniforms for the police which are no longer super navy dress blue but AWESOME grey linen with matching pants (WIN!)
missall
loveandhugs
