Dancing with Babushkas!

If you saw someone wearing a headscarf and complimented them saying, oh what a cute Babushka on your head, you would be telling them they had a cute Grandmother on their head. The colorful headscarf is something that stereotypical Soviet Babushkas wear on their heads in Ukraine (and Russia). Certainly warmth is one reason for the headscarf, and it can also signify being a widow, but many old Babushkas also wear the scarf over ears when they travel because they truly believe that while in a bus or train they will catch a draft from outside which will enter their brains through the aural cavity and kill them. Babushkas believe that vodka (in many forms) is the cure-all miracle drug, also if a woman sits on the sidewalk their ovaries will freeze, thus preventing childbearing which leads to a very short death. Many cling to Soviet ideals and worship Stalin while being very wary of anything modern or capitalist. They are fun to laugh at, but realistically these women have lived through some unbelievably difficult times, seen many people die, and barely survived a plethora of Siberian winters with little warmth or food. Their counterpart are Dadushkas, but most men from Soviet era have died, or you don’t see them as much because they are lying somewhere in a puddle of their own urine with an empty vodka bottle in hand. There were few Babushkas in Lviv, only some singing on street corners for money, but soon we’ll see many more firsthand.

27.Oct.08

We arrived in the massive, airport-like train station of Kiev then headed directly to the Peace Corps office. The office is six stories with a lounge area on top filled with volunteers waiting for buses or trains to their site after their weekend of traveling. We used internet and showered, then took the metro to a bus station outside the city. There are still some awesome things left over from Soviet times. The Metro for instance is simply unbelievably cheap and surprisingly efficient. For a one way token from anywhere to anywhere along any line it is only 50 copecs. (100 copecs is 1 Hrivnia and 6 Hrivnia is 1 dollar). So for $1 you could ride the metro lines 12 times!!! The government has tried raising the price a number of times, but everyone in the city simply riots, so the price has stayed the same for many years.

Next we were on a bright yellow Marshutka for a three hour journey to Andrea’s site Bubnivska Slovidka. At some point a babushka reeking of urine sat in front of us next to a poor young girl who became the old woman’s temporary psychologist for the next hour. We were dropped off in a small village with its 400 or so inhabitants. It was a short walk to Andrea’s traditional Kchata or ‘little house’ complete with functioning water pump as the only means of water, and a wooden outhouse with a simple hole in the ground. We didn’t stay long as we had dinner arrangements with Andreas counterpart Valentina. Valentina is a teacher with Andrea at the school and was the one who arranged for her to come to their specific village through Peace Corps. She had a delicious meal cooked for us, and though by this point she has had dozens of Americans visit while coming to see Andrea, she was very enthusiastic to chat with us in her perfect English.

Not completely spartan, Andrea’s Kchata has electricity and gas, so we had a warm and comfy night in her spare room after watching a few episodes of “Flight of the Conchords” on the computer.

28.Oct.08

We woke up to a call from Valentina mentioning that today is the weekly Babushka meeting at the town historical museum. We were welcomed with open arms by the ten motherly Babushkas in their bright colored bandanas to a massive buffet of home cooked food.

The meal was delicious; blood sausage, apples pickled in apricot and apple juice, chicken, some sort of sweet onion, red, and green peppers dish, and more home made moonshine than we could handle. Naturally being the male I got a shot of Semahon (the local brew) about three times the size as everyone else. I am no lightweight, but this shit could floor an elephant. We drank and ate merrily, made many cheers, and the meal was broken constantly by beautiful choral singing from the women. One woman sang of her husband being killed during the war and her left heartbroken and widowed in this village. Andrea did an awesome job translating everything for us. Soon they whipped out an accordion and I could not resist joining them in dancing. Having no idea what I was doing I certainly got many compliments for my leg stomping and flailing and I managed to get Andrea and Jess to join along. They turned nearby tools from the museum into instruments and we danced until I felt the blood sausage try to make its way back up my system.

After the whirlwind of insanity the Babushkas left to go home and do what they do all day, which is a mystery untold for centuries. The youngest Babushka Katarina Jakivna stayed behind and showed us the museum she managed. The museum showed traditional tools, school supplies, and a decorated living area, as well as documents from the World Wars and Soviet times. Katarina promised to stop by with food later; something that has kept Andrea very well fed over the last two years, Babushkas fighting each other to feed her.

Next Andrea showed us the school she taught at where we met Valentina again. The kids are on holiday, but they showed us the towns one computer with dial-up modem Andrea hooked up for them. The rest of the day was spent recovering from the morning onslaught of food and alchohol until Katarina stopped by with again more food than we knew what to do with! One great thing they all still do from Soviet times is food preservation! Katarina came with like eight jars filled with bell peppers, apricot/apple juice, fresh cow milk, beans, as well as jellied pork and Bleenchikies. Bleenchickies are dangerous because they are one of the more delicious deserts we have had, addictive as heroin, and certainly clog your arteries. They are basically sweet curd cheese with sugar, raisins, and a touch of love, wrapped in soft crepes, and soaked in some sort of sweet milk syrup, and flying pixie dust. I feel diabetic just describing the little devils. I cannot however express as much love for the mildly offensive jellied pork and chicken. When I say jellied I mean JELLIED,  like gelatin; made with ground hooves (yes, in case you didn’t know, the gelatin you eat in candies is almost definitely made with powdered horse, pig, or cow hooves; the more you know…!) When I say pork and chicken I mean all the parts including feet. bones, intestines, etc. It was surprisingly good, but we couldn’t manage to eat all of it.

After our unhealthy feast we just lounged about then fell fast asleep.

28.Oct.08

We started the morning with hot bucket baths in the kitchen. Having no proper shower we pumped water from the well, boiled it on the stove and took turns taking baths in a plastic tub in the middle of the kitchen! Andrea has been doing this for the last two years, pretty wild. Then we got picked up by a local driving in our desired direction and went to a very unique Ukrainian tradition museum. It is a very nice outdoor museum where traditional homes, churches, and forts are re-created in different era styles. The very basic Cossack huts were pretty awesome as well as the fort, and the decorations in the traditional homes are exquisite with dried herbs and hand woven red and white cloths draping the ceilings.

We spent a few hours exploring the museum then headed back to Andrea’s house where we cooked a small feast of Katarina’s food and just hung out.

29.Oct.08

The entire area surrounding the village is unbelievably picturesque. Andrea showed us the park she jogged through every day in winter during the meager hours of sunlight. She described her first winter here as teetering on a razor thin edge of insanity. Just a few hours of sunlight each day during which she would be in a classroom teaching. I imagine perpetual darkness would make one want to slit their wrists just to see color for once (maybe that is why Ukrainians are so fond of weaving in bright red). Andrea’s second winter was better because she exercised and ate many more fresh veggies though still had the deal with going to the outhouse everyday in well below freezing temperatures.

We explored the next village with rows and rows of incredibly quaint little homes. The highlight of the day was stumbling upon a gay cat and dog couple cuddling together. They were super cute and friendly, but maybe got a little too friendly with me; I have that effect on animals, I think they misinterpret my love and affection for a deeper meaning. We stopped by the market and Valentina’s house where we picked up all the ingredients needed for Borscht. Andrea gave us the recipe and went to do some work with Valentina while we slaved over the stove for hours making a super complex and awesome meal. As usual Jessica masterminded it while I chopped away and stirred; it came out quite perfect.

Andrea came home and was impressed with our first attempt at borscht; we ate drank, and became merry. It was a silly evening and Jessica and I started to understand a piece of Andrea’s semi-isolated life for the last couple of years, and how she came to hold regular dance parties for herself, by herself. The town is beautiful, there is a plethora of delicious food, the people are very friendly, but it is most definitely a much different way to live than she was used to, a big congrats to Andrea for surviving two years of peace corps out here!

Bubnivska Slovidka Flickr Photos:

http://flickr.com/photos/flufflebuns/sets/72157608608541142/

(Even if you have seen them, check out the pictures again, we recently added some more taken with Andrea’s camera).