Sometimes the Hardest Thing and the Right Thing Are the Same

Well, one adventure is done.   I’m back in the land of homework, nice notes, and ice cream--- My days of craving English, a simple hug, or a glass of skim milk are just memories.  It’s amazing how adaptable we are as humans.  Ukraine sometimes seems like a distant dream - it undeniably happened, and yet life goes on the way it always has.  I almost get so swept up in the sameness and routine-ness of life in Provo that I forget... almost. 

When people find out about my last 6 months, they always want to hear all about it.  Which is absolutely next to impossible.  So many things happened in Ukraine, I couldn’t even cohesively organize them if I wanted to.  And so, I often default to the basic summary:  It was a wonderfully-difficult experience.  One of the hardest and yet most meaningful times of my life. 

And then, the recurring question is always:  “Would you do it again?”

Which always makes me pause.

I will forever treasure the opportunities I had, the friendships I made, and the insights I gained while living in Ukraine.  I feel that today, I wake up with a greater appreciation of just how blessed and comfortable my life is.  I’m thankful to actually have a bed.  I’m thankful that I can get into a car - my car- drive 15 minutes, get on a plane, and be home in an hour.  I’m thankful to be able to fully communicate with most everyone I meet.  I’m thankful for the ability to choose my future and work towards goals.  I’m thankful for the grocery stores.  I’m thankful to be back at school, learning.  I’m thankful that I can call my family at the drop of the hat and not worry about calculating a nine hour time difference.  I’m thankful to have my personal space in public :) 

I saw a completely different view of the world while I was in Ukraine, and I think it’s something I needed to see. 

I learned so much about myself as a person and my relationship with my Heavenly Father.  I learned more about choosing happiness – that circumstances really don’t determine happiness, it’s a CHOICE.  I learned to adore a group of people that were so different from me.  I learned to see the beauty in life – even if it’s just the sun on my face.  I grew to love those little Ukrainian children who I taught, and it kills me to think that they may not remember me.  But I will ALWAYS remember them and their sweet hearts. 

I’m so so thankful that I went and experienced all that I did.   

And yet at the same time, Ukraine was one of the most difficult times in my life - I’ve never been so heartbreakingly lonely, so legitimately scared for my safety, so sick, and so uncomfortable.  I repeatedly found myself in situations that just don’t happen in my normal life - that just SHOULDN’T happen to anyone.  So many times -literally- my only option for survival was prayer.  I feel that while I was in Ukraine, I was pushing my luck, every day.  I was pushed to the brink, and then a little beyond. 

But I did survive :)  and I even loved it.  I wouldn’t take back my experience, for anything (but I definitely would change how some things went down!).

So would I do it again?  I guess, after a lot of consideration, yes I would.  Because for the most part, the good outweighed the bad.  And those children and the travel made it all worthwhile. 

Ukraine truly opened my eyes to the dichotomy of life.  I experienced so much joy and happiness and yet so much heartache and fear.  But it was good for me.  I hope it changed me, permanently.  If nothing else, I’ve got stories to tell :)

So here’s to future adventures... because I’m sure there will be many :)))

Never thought this day would come...

SIX DAYS. 

Six short days, and I’m on a plane flying out of Kyiv.  

Possibly for the last time ever.  

And then, after a relaxing stay in Switzerland... 

I’m home.  

Just in time for Christmas.  

So bitter-sweet.

Now, if only I could get my suitcases to weight… aghhhh.   

Long time, no see.... surprise, surprise

I believe it’s been more than a month since I’ve written on this blog.  Bad news.

The Longer you wait to write, the harder it gets.
Ain’t that the truth.

In this past month, I’ve had so many amazing experiences, so many things to be grateful for, so many big decisions to make. 

So here’s an extraordinarily brief overview.  Followed by a little explanation.

Since October, I have:

-          Taught, taught, and taught some more.

-          Traveled to Prague and back.

-          Spent an amazing day in Dresden, Germany. 

-          Agonized over my future: Advertising vs. Physical Therapy vs. Law.  Just one of many brutal decisions. 

-          Moved host families.

-          Joined a Ukrainian volleyball league.

-          Been sick more times than I want to admit. 

-          Invested in a ‘true’ Ukrainian coat.

-          Had plane tickets fall through.  TWICE.  Frustration…

-          Been stuffed to the proverbial bursting point at thanksgiving.

-          Attended an Eastern Orthodox mass at the Lavra.

Teaching -
Oh my.  Teaching.  On the rough days, I wish I could just live in Ukraine without teaching every day- without the craziness, without the boogers, without the crying, without the punching, without the rotten teeth.  But here’s the thing.  I LOVE IT.  And more than I love teaching, I LOVE MY STUDENTS.  I love their simplistic outlook on life.  I love how willing they are.  I love how hard they try to learn (most days, haha).  I love their little smiles.  I love their crazy little outfits.  I love their accents.  I love the way they sing.  I love them.  They really are so so sweet.  Ukraine just wouldn’t be the same without them, and I’m thankful for the little part that I get to play in their lives.  I’m definitely the lucky one.

Prague and Dresden -
I got the opportunity to spend ten days exploring Prague (Czech Republic) and Dresden (Germany) ---  such a wonderful trip!  While most of our ILP group did a bus tour covering a few different countries, three girls and I decided that instead of spending 50% of our time cramped on a tour bus, we wanted to fly into one city and just see EVERYTHING at our own pace.  We chose Prague, and I loved every minute of it :)  While we were there, we toured, we hiked, we sight-saw, we shopped, we ate DELICIOUS food, we danced, we went to a ballet performance, we successfully navigated the metro system, we were constantly awed by the beauty of Prague, and we just enjoyed our wonderful lives.  So many times we'd turn to each other and say, "Can you believe that we're here?!!!!  Crazy."  And that's exactly what it is - crazy.  But crazy in the best sense of the word.  Ask me five years ago (even two years ago!) and I'd never expect that I'd actually be living in Kiev.  And travelling to Prague in my time off.  And country-jumping without a second thought.  It hits me all the time - I am so so lucky to be where I am.  

                On this same trip, we also got the chance to catch a train to Dresden, Germany for the day.  For those who haven't ever heard - Dresden is GORGEOUS.  I fell in love with that city.  Without any pre-planning we got off the train and just wandered.  And felt like we had been transported back to the era of Mr. Darcy and horse-drawn carriages.  If I could live there, I would.  In a heartbeat.  I don’t really know what else to say (without going on and on for HOURS.)  We ate amazing german food, were cheered on by old grandpas as we heel-clicked through a park, rode a train to Hogwarts, were awed by buildings, and took lots of pictures.  And that folks, is a recipe for a perfect day :)

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions –
Before I came here, I looked forward to my time in Ukraine as a chance to really stop and consider my life.  To take a break from everything I know, everything I love, and really confront my future.  I feel like right now is a major crossroad in my life – that when I go home, I’m going home to the rest of my life.  Which is probably somewhat exaggerating (or at least overemphasizing)  the truth, but that’s how I’ve been feeling lately. 

I’ve found that being alone in a foreign country where I know only the most basic phrases causes me to turn inward.  I’m used to not understanding, so sometimes I just don’t listen (BAD habit, by the way…), which gives me a LOT of time to myself.  I think and think and think about everything (sometimes too much!), and one of the major decisions that I’ve been struggling with lately is just which field I want to go into.  I’m an advertising major, and I LOVE IT.  But, I’ve always had the plan to go to law school, which I believe I would LOVE (I brought an LSAT prep book with me here, and believe it or not, that stuff is FUN.  Really!).  And recently, working as a physical therapy assistant has really opened my eyes to the joy that can come from helping people in such a tangible and necessary way.  So maybe I should be an advertising professional?  Or maybe an advertising major that went to law school?  Or maybe an advertising major that went to PT school?  What in the world.  I could change my decision each and every day.  Bahhhh.

Honestly, it’s overwhelming to me at times.  I don’t know how it’s all going to work out.  I don’t know which path I should take.  I don’t want to mess it up, and that’s the perfectionist in me coming out.  I want to be happy and confident that I made the right choices (even if they were hard) when I’m old and wrinkly.  I want to allow myself as many opportunities as I can NOW so that I am not limited later.  But more than anything, this whole dilemma and internal struggle has taught me to have more faith in my Heavenly Father.  In my time here, I’ve become more reliant on His goodness and more aware of just how much He has blessed me.  There have been times when He was the only person who knew just how sufficatingly lonely I was or just how overwhelmed, and He comforted me.  I’ve seen answers to my prayers that just astound me.  There have been so many experiences where I’m absolutely certain that He had a hand in my life, and those are experiences that I will treasure.  While I may not know what my future holds, He does, and he is willing to help me get there.  He wants me to be happy.   HE wants me to be happy, how amazing is that?!  I can do this. 

Host Family –
When I first moved to Ukraine, I moved in with a family named the (well, I decided it may not be the best thing to post their name… anyways…).  There were three people in the family – the mom, the dad, and the 9 year old daughter.  The mom and the daughter spoke English pretty well (better than I speak Russian, that’s for sure! Haha), but the dad didn’t speak any.  At all.  We communicated through caveman grunts (Conversation – Dad: “grunt, grunt” *point and food, thumbs up*, Me: “Yeah!” *thumbs up*), it was quite the adventure :)  In fact, the only time he ever spoke to me happened after I cooked tacos for the family.  They hadn’t ever heard of/ had tacos and after the meal, he pointed  to his empty plate and said:  “Katie, very very best.”  That made my week!    

Anyways, back to the family - Because I arrived in Ukraine a week early (thank you, ILP haha), they took me in when I didn’t know anyone else.  They went above and beyond their job as a host family by letting me move in early, and I’m so thankful that.  (Initially, I thought I’d be living in a hostel in Kyiv all by myself… TERRIFYING…).  The mom did try to make me feel at home, but it was a pretty rough situation, for a bunch of reasons I won’t go into.  However, I was determined to make the best of it, and viewed it as a “personal growth experience” (As my dad would say).  It definitely was one of those experiences that taught me to be thankful for my family and life back at home. 

Well, the day after I came home from Prague, my host sister informed me that she and her mom “were leaving.”  Ummm, what?  But that was all she told me.  At first, I thought that she was making the whole story up, but later, my host mom told me that she and her daughter were moving to Crimea.  And that I would be living alone with the host dad in the apartment.  Now don’t get me wrong, he really is a nice man, but that would be downright awkward.  Not to mention the whole language barrier and all.  Anyways, I talked to my head teacher about it, and she agreed with me and asked our Ukrainian coordinator to find me a new host family.  After some bargaining, the coordinator agreed to move me, and two days later, I moved in with a new host family of sorts – I moved in with a 20 year old Ukrainian girl named Nina and her puppy, Martium.  Living with Nina and Martium has been so wonderful – I now sleep on a bed (!!!!), I’ve been introduced to a totally different style of food, I feel so much more relaxed, and I enjoy talking to Nina about life and everything.  She’s so much fun and living with her has really opened my eyes to a different view of Ukraine.  I feel that between my two host families, I have seen both ends of the spectrum, and I’m thankful for both experiences, truly.  Once again, I feel so blessed. 

Volleyball Baby! –
If you know me, you know I love volleyball.  Too much.  But that is beside the point :) This past summer, I organized volleyball games at least once a week, and I got spoiled.  Here in Ukraine, I’ve been suffering from withdrawals.  Other than walking and walking and walking, I feel like I don’t get the opportunity to exercise.  Nobody here runs (it’s considered in bad taste or sloppy to be seen outside in sweatpants, hoodies, or exercise clothes of any kind…), and I don’t really feel inclined to go to a Ukrainian gym.  (Also, if you know me, you know I HATE gyms.  More than I hate studying in the library…. And THAT’S saying a lot.  Just let me play a sport, please!).  Anyways, a few weeks ago, I heard about a Ukrainian volleyball league, and I just couldn’t let that pass me by.  For 30 grivenas a week, I get to play and do drills twice a week, and it has been so fun!  Painful, but fun :)  The women all speak Russian or Ukrainian, but somehow, we all get along and have figured out positions (middle front, baby!) and rotations and all that jazz.  I guess you just don’t need words - volleyball is a language all of it’s own ;) bahaha

The stay-puffed-marshmallow-man coat… with FUR. 
Nina must love me.  How do I know that, you may ask?  Well, quite simply, because she nags me.  Hahahaha, but in all seriousness.  She really did.  I had survived in Ukraine until I met her with just a light leather jacket and a wool peacoat.  Was I cold?  Most definitely.  But the stubborn Coloradoan in me had decided that I could handle it.  Heck, I like the cold!  And who wants to spend money on a coat that I may only use for another month or so.  So, I was determined to survive the freezing temperatures of Ukraine with LAYERS.

                Well, that wasn’t good enough for Nina.  From the day she met me, she started telling me that I needed to buy a coat.  I would kind of smile and nod, but never consented to actually buy one.  But she didn’t give up.  She even took me coat shopping one day with her parents!  By that point I was tired of freezing all the time, so I was somewhat considering buying one, but when I saw the price tags, I changed my mind.  To Nina’s schagrinn (no idea how to spell that one…), I held out and didn’t buy a coat… I’d be fine! 
              Ha.  Well, mother nature was apparently on Nina’s side in this debate, because the next day, it was FREEZING and WINDY and somewhat SNOWY.  My layers just weren’t cutting it.  I came home from teaching shaking and blue and defeated.  I told Nina that I did, in fact, need to buy a coat.  She didn’t rub it in or anything, but I could tell from her beaming smile that she knew she had been right all along and that it was only a matter of time until I caved. 
             Well, I went shopping the next day, and came back with a very Ukrainian coat, and Nina was happy.  And secretly, so was I :)  You can’t deny that thing is warmmmmmmmmmm
                And what do I learn?  Nina’s always right ;)

Thanksgiving

Ok.  Need I say more? 

I love American holidays :)

Mass at the Lavra –
My wonderful host sister/roommate had never been to the Lavra.  She was born and raised in Kyiv.  I was shocked.  And then I decided that that had to change :)

This Sunday, we went to a church service at one of the many churches in the Lavra compound with Nina’s brother and sister-in-law.  The church service was unlike anything I have ever experienced before --- very focused on procession, pattern, and ceremony.  The service was held in a very byzantine and ornate church filled with icons, frescos, and gold leaf, and it lasted for about an hour and half.  The head priest and other priests (I’m not entirely sure what their correct title would be) who lead the service were all dressed in golden robes.  The head priest wore a hat which was constantly removed and then replaced.  The priests spent most of their time facing away from the congregation, behind a gilded screen, addressing a crucifix and other items of religious significance, and burning incense. 

My favorite part of the whole experience was the singing – deep, complex chanting from both the priests in the front and the choir in the back of the church.  They really were phenomenal singers.  I was surrounded by a chorus at every stage of the ceremony.   I wish I could have understood what was being said, but from what I can gather, it was compromised of a lot of prayer and reading from the bible.  Such an eye opening experience. 

As a completely irreligious and irrelevant side note --- one of the priests in training (once again, not sure of the appropriate title), who carried a candle throughout the congregation looked IDENTICAL to one of my ex-boyfriends.  Talk about a double take.  Same facial shape, same eyes, same cheek bones, same nose… a little shorter, but it was shocking how similar they looked.  It’s so crazy that two people without any apparent genetic link could look so similar.  Basically twins.  Makes me wonder if there’s another Katie walking around out there…  but that’s a story for another time. 

Back to the Lavra - The Lavra is the biggest and oldest Eastern Orthodox church complex in Kyiv.  And let me tell you, it’s GORGEOUS.  Nothing like the churches that I saw as I travelled Europe, but awe-inspiring in its own way.  (From an art history standpoint, the difference in the church buildings themselves and the way they are decorated really hints at a deeper difference between these two similar, and yet different faiths in Europe --- these churches reveal a little bit of how differently these two religions view God and is relationship with man. It’s so interesting to see.)  Each church on the compound was decorated a little differently (all still very byzantine with icons and gold and frescoes, but each has its own ‘flavor’), and on this Sunday, each church had its own mass and ceremony.  I don’t know how someone would choose which church to go to each Sunday!  I’m pretty sure if I was a member of the Eastern orthodox church, I would try to go to a different service in a different church every week, but I get the feeling that that just isn’t done.

After the church service, Nina and I decided to just walk around the massive lavra complex.  We went in as many churches as we could, and explored the caves underneath the complex where all the previous religious leaders (some from the 11^th century!!!!) are buried in little glass coffins.  It was obviously very spiritually meaningful for those of the eastern orthodox faith, but as an outsider, I was more interested in the history that is preserved in those countless caves.  Kind of mind boggling!  Also, (and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t help myself!) it was really surprising to see how short the many coffins were.  I’m just saying that back in the day, people in Kyiv must have been veryyyyyyy short.  They’re short now, but back then… whoa.  I would look like a regular Godzilla.  Anyways…………

I really enjoyed the time I spent in the Lavra with Nina.  Even though I felt very out of place (I was the only one in the service and walking around the compound who didn’t constantly cross themselves and bow), it was so interesting to see, and I feel like I understand the Ukrainian people a little better because of this experience. 

And in 21 days, I will be flying out of Kyiv

for possibly the last time in my life. 

Oh how time flies. 

Where Did It Go???

Want to hear something crazy?  In exactly 62 days (two months from tomorrow), I'll be getting on a plane and beginning my long journey home!


Time really does fly!

An Answer to Prayer

Last night was a night that I will never forget.  It was one of the scariest nights of my life.  I have never felt so helpless or legitimately scared for my own safety.  And yet, it also became such a testimony of Heavenly Father’s very real care for me and a reminder of his ability to answer my prayers more immediately and lovingly than I would ever have a right to expect. 

Last night was one of those bone-chilling Kyiv nights - freezing cold, rain off and on, and bitter wind.  And it’s only October.  I have a feeling it may be a long, cold winter.  Earlier that day, I had gone downtown with a friend named Christina and instead of trekking back to my host family’s house after we were done shopping, I decided to just relax and warm up at her apartment for a while.  We had talked about going to FHE or just around the city later that night, but when the time came, we just couldn’t stand the thought of braving the elements any more than absolutely necessary.  Along with two other teachers named Jamie and Haley, we decided to be bums instead.  I made some scrambled eggs and Jamie fried up tortillas and we made breakfast burritos (such a rarity in Ukraine!) and then just relaxed and began to watch a movie.  It was wonderful.  However, 10 PM rolled around and I decided that it was time for me to head home. 

Christina and Jamie (who are roommates) had planned to spend the night at a senior missionary couple’s home in Kyiv, so they decided to head over to the other apartment when I left.  We walked together to a trombine (like a trolley on tracks) stop and waited for the trombine – the senior missionary couple’s apartment was on the same line, but the opposite direction from me.  I hadn’t ever gone back to my apartment the way that they told me would be easiest, but I have grown fairly confident with the Ukrainian public transportation system.  In my mind, it was “no big deal.”  I knew that I had to get off in two stops and then walk to the Berestaiska metro stop.  No big deal.  So without any anxiety, I got myself on the trombine and got off in two stops.  And that’s where my problems began. 

I was the only person to get off the trombine, and when I stepped out of the bus, I found myself on a very deserted, dark, and lonely street corner in Kyiv.  There weren’t any shops or restaurants nearby (which I had been told there would be at the stop).  There was only a dilapidated bar with one drunk man sitting out front, a small bus stop with a bench, and one streetlight.  Everything about that corner screamed “bad news.”  I got a very sick “Todo, we’re not in Kansas anymore” feeling.  I was lost, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

I immediately said a prayer and then called Christina (who has been living in the city for the last 8 months and is fairly well-versed in all things Kyiv) and told her what was going on.  She quickly confirmed my fears- I had gone way too far and was quite a way from the metro stop.   Apparently at night, the trombines don’t stop at all their regular stops - a fact that I will NEVER forget.   I asked her what she thought I should do, and she told me that my best bet would be to walk back to the last trombine stop because the next one wouldn’t come for another 40 minutes or so if they hadn’t stopped for the night. 

I was terrified, but after looking up my location on the GPS on my phone (Best. Thing. Ever.) I decided that she was probably right – it was far away, but not more than a mile or two.  I began to walk towards the direction of the last trombine stop, but as I walked, the sidewalk turned into a small dark path surrounded by bushes and trees.   I sang hymns in my head, but my terror built with each step.  I reached a curve in the path and couldn’t see any more streetlights ahead and decided that there was no way I was going to go any further on that path.  I turned around and started walking quickly back towards the bus stop (a park bench with a tin roof covering it).  To add a whole new level to my uneasiness, as I turned around, I saw two men walking up the path towards me.  I told Christina that I couldn’t talk (I didn’t want them to hear me speaking English and know that I was and American) but I told her that I needed her to keep talking to me - I needed someone to talk to .  I don’t remember what she said, but I do remember being so grateful that I wasn’t doing this completely alone.  As the men approached, I kept my head down and walked like I had somewhere to be – praying that they wouldn’t look twice at me.  They passed me and I felt a small measure of relief.  I had just survived the first hurdle in a very long night. 

I made it back to the bus stop and decided that my best choice (because I was NOT willing to die on a path going back to the last trombine stop) was to wait for another trombine to take me back to where I needed to be.  I sat down on the bench and waited.  And waited.  And waited.   The stop itself was still deserted, but a little way off a group of men began yelling at each other.  It eventually turned into a full-out fistfight.   As each minute passed, I began to feel more anxious.

In desperation, I turned to the only source of comfort or help available to me – desperate, heartfelt prayers to my Heavenly Father.  Over the next two hours or so, I kept up a constant dialogue with Him.  I prayed for comfort.  I prayed for courage.  I prayed that somehow, I would make it to safety.  I prayed for direction.  I prayed for the ability to make good decisions.  I prayed for a way out.  I prayed that the people fighting on the street would leave me alone.  I prayed that this wasn’t how I would end up (and yes, that  is dramatic, but it seemed like such a real possibility to me at the time) - I stubbornly told Him that I refused to die this way – lost, alone, kidnapped, or attacked on a dark corner in the Ukrainian ghetto.  I prayed for a trombine, matsrutka, trolley, taxi, anything.  I prayed for help.  I prayed and I prayed. 

About twenty excruciatingly long and cold minutes passed, and there was no sign of any form of public transportation that could take me close to the right metro.  Each time I saw lights I would hope and hope and hope that it would be a way for me to get back, and each time another private car passed me, I felt my dread grow. 

I then noticed a man staggering towards the bus stop.  He was obviously drunk and I hoped that he would just pass me by.  No such luck - he headed in my direction and spoke to me loudly and angrily in Russian. I stood up and looked for any form of safety or help – he terrified me.  I told him to go away, but he kept coming at me.  At that exact moment, a woman walked up to a bus stop on the opposite side of the street and began to wait.  Without even pausing to consider what I was doing, I ran across the street and stood by her.  I asked her in Russian which direction the Beresteiska metro stop was, and she pointed back the way I expected.  I decided to stay by her – I felt so much safer with her around. 

The drunk man staggered across the street and approached me again, but before he could get too close, the woman intercepted him and told him to go away.  I was so thankful I could have cried.  Even though I was no closer to getting home, I felt that she was an answer to my prayers.  The woman and I stood in silence, waiting and waiting. 

After another forty minutes or so, I saw a matschrutka in the distance.  As it got closer, the woman motioned to it.  It stopped when I flagged it down, but as the doors opened, people literally fell out because it was so full.  As I moved towards the door, they began to shoo me away and scream at me in Russian.  It was hopeless to try to force my way on.  Then, to top it off, the matschrutka driver slammed the doors and drove off.  It got me pretty frustrated – why even stop if you knew nobody else could fit?!  It’s like dangling a carrot in front of my face and then ripping it away. 

Watching the matschrutka drive away was horrible.  I knew that because it had just passed, another one wouldn’t be coming for a LONG time.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I returned to the bus stop and stood by the Ukrainian woman.  Like before, she didn’t say anything to me, but even so, she was such a source of comfort.  As long as she was there, I wasn’t completely alone.  As long as she was there, there was someone to yell at the drunk men.  But I knew that comfort wouldn’t last much longer - I dreaded the time when she would leave and I would be by myself again.  I just prayed that maybe I would get out of this mess before she left.   Christina told me that I should just follow her wherever she went, but I didn’t like that idea.  It would get me even more lost (she obviously  wasn’t trying to get to the same place I was or else she would have tried to get on the matschrutka with me) and if not, she’d probably get super annoyed with me.  I really had no idea what I’d do after she left. 

By this point I was freezing.  It was below 0 degrees Celsius, and I could feel every breeze blow right through me.  My hands were literally blue.  I was wearing a light leather jacket and that was all.  No gloves, no scarf, no hat, nothing.  I hadn’t planned on getting stranded out in the freezing cold night.  My shivering was out of control. 

Another thirty minutes or so passed and I just focused on trying to stay warm.  


Then the moment I had been dreading arrived - a small Ukrainian beater car pulled up to the curb, flashed its lights, and the woman walked over to it and got in the front seat. 

In those few seconds, paranoia hit me hard.  What would I do when that drunk man came after me again?  How would I know which matschrutka to get on… if one even came again?  What if those men down the street stopped fighting and noticed me and then what?!  What if, what if, what if.

From inside the car, the woman looked back at me and made eye contact.   On my face must have been a look of complete terror and with all of my heart, I was screaming a silent prayer-  ‘please don’t leave me!  I can’t do this by myself!’  She must have seen and understood that look in my eyes because just as they were pulling away, she turned to the driver and asked him to stop.  Before I could understand what she was doing, she hopped out of the car, opened the back door and motioned for me to get in.

Now don’t judge me when I say I got in the car.  I know it was dumb.  I know it’s exactly what they tell you not to do.  I know I could have been the next American kidnapped in Kyiv.  Believe me, I know. 

But I didn’t even think about it.  No looking back here.  I honestly didn’t even realize the enormity of the situation until after I sat down and the door closed. 

But I knew that there was no way I’d make it without her.  I’d never know what bus to get on.  I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with the drunk man and whatever other strangers passed by.  I know I scream ‘American’ just by looking at me – there’s no way to hide it - and being a 21-year-old American girl alone in Kyiv at a deserted bus stop at midnight is not a safe thing to be. 

Another part of me honestly knew that this woman was the answer to my prayers.  Right when I needed someone the most, she appeared.  When there was no reason for her to help me, she did.  I believed that my Heavenly Father was protecting me by sending her my way. 

So I got in the car. 

I only started to second-guess that autopilot decision after we had been driving for over 10 minutes.  I didn’t miss the stop by THAT much did I?  What if this really was a bad decision?  What if I’m going to be the next news story plastered across the Ukrainian and American newspapers?  Oh my goodness, the what ifs.

But I made myself keep calm.  Panicking now would do me no good. 

After a few more minutes, to my great relief, the car pulled over on the side of a road.  I had no idea where I was, but at the very least, I knew I wouldn’t be kidnapped, right?

The man driving the car turned around, looked at me, and began speaking in Russian.  I tried to communicate with him, but it wasn’t working.  I then resorted to the universal ‘I don’t know’ gesture and said Metro Beresteiska.  He then pointed off in the distance and said “Good Luck.” 

Good luck?!  What the heck?! 

But that was my cue to get out of the car, so after saying thank you multiple times in both English and Russian, I got out.  I found myself on another deserted dark corner, but at least there wasn’t a full out fistfight going on right?  And no drunk men that I could see.  So things were looking up for me.  I also thought that I must be at least somewhat close to the metro – why else would he leave me here? 

I began to look around, and pretty far off in the distance, I saw a glowing green M metro sign.  I can’t even explain to you the relief that flooded me at that moment.  Even though it was on the other side of a busy highway, even though the trains may have stopped running, and even though I had a long way to go, I knew that if I could make it there, I would survive the night.  At the very least, I would be able to tell someone where I was… which is a lot more than I could have done before. 

After wandering through underpasses, past a few more fights (it is ABSURD how much they fight here), and through a deserted outdoor market, I saw the stairs leading down to the metro.  My eyes welled up with tears for the first time that night – I was safe.  I would be warm.  I was alive.  And I might even be able to make it back to my apartment in the near future.  At that point, my prayers changed from pleading to thanks.  I had made it, and not because of anything I had done – it had been a complete miracle. 

I ran down the steps of the metro, through the turnstile, and to my relief, a metro train pulled up a minute later.  I’ve never been happier to get on a crowded, dirty, crammed, stinky bus in my life!  But at that moment, that metro car was heaven to me.  I really was going to survive the night. 

A few stops later, I got off at my stop, walked through the usual dark alleys and sidewalks and made it back to my apartment. 

It’s amazing the extremes you can feel – so much terror followed by so much relief. 

Heavenly Father is so good to me.  I couldn’t have made it out of that situation without Him.  There was no reason for that woman to stand on a street corner in the freezing night for an hour and a half waiting for her ride.  But she did.  There was no reason for her to help me.  But she did.  There was no reason I should have gotten in that car.  But I did.  There is no reason I should have felt safe with her.  But I did.  And I have complete confidence that Heavenly Father was in control of the situation.

 

I was forced to rely on the goodness and charity of complete and utter strangers, and that’s a terrifying feeling.  But I know that the Lord was protecting me and I know that I wouldn’t have made it out without His help.  I was in a horrible situation, and even though I felt so stranded and alone, I never was alone.  My heavenly father heard my desperate prayers and answered them  - more perfectly and promptly than I had a right to expect.  My Heavenly Father really does love me.  

Hey Poland, I’m a big fan!

Have you noticed that vacations have this weird ability to feel so long and yet way too short?  Like it was years ago when you left, but the time there passed much too quickly?  I guess it just goes to show that the theory of relativity is alive and well :)

This past week, I had the much-needed opportunity to travel to Poland and spend a few short and wonderful days touring the city, eating sooooo much delicious food, shopping like a mad woman, seeing some incredible sites and monuments, and just having a general good time.  It was so nice to get out of Kiev, explore a new city, and experience a new culture.  And let me say, I’m a big fan of Poland.  I never expected to like it nearly as much as I did.  The only thing that would have made it better would have been if I had “randomly” run in to one of my favorite roommates, Amy, who is serving a mission in Poland.  No such luck.  But I don’t really know if I would have had the guts to try to see her :) Anyways, back to Poland… if I could stay and teach in Krakow, I definitely would (unless I could teach in Germany or Switzerland… then I’d really jump ship).  It had a much more ‘clean European feel’ (which I LOVE), that I don’t always feel in Kyiv.  The parks were gorgeous, the city was easy to navigate, the people all SMILED AND WERE OPENLY FRIENDLY (!!!!), the food was to die for, and the history, while heartbreaking, is so critical to my identity as a human being.

By far, the most memorable experience I had this past week was visiting the two concentration camps at Auschwitz and Birkenau.  I don’t even know how to summarize or even express how I felt while visiting Auschwitz.  With equal parts reverence, horror, love, anger, awe, and despair, I saw what remains of the horrific and famous concentration camp.  Although the land and camp itself are aesthetically beautiful nowadays (except for the double barbed wire fences surrounding the area, it was actually quite picturesque with green trees and rolling countryside around), it was appalling to think of its history and purpose.  As I witnessed some of the horror that was the camp at Auschwitz, it was next to impossible for me to fathom how a person could be so callous and cold so as to be able to murder thousands of men, women, and children.  In one day.  How did their hearts not scream each time they helped fulfill the Nazi regime’s commands?  Maybe they did.  I hope they did.  I wish they could have stopped it before it started.  I know this has been said, but I hope and pray that I would have had the courage to say no--- to look past the falsities, the propaganda, the hatred and really love a human being simply for being a human being.   I hope, I pray. 

And I know this is probably naive, but I also found myself thinking that it would have been so much easier for an individual Jew to deny to their faith and heritage.  To save themselves, their family.  (And then I wonder if I would have had the same faith, conviction, and courage.  Once again, I hope and pray that I would.  I hope that I would not deny all that I am, all that I value, all that I know.)   I wonder if any of them did, or tried to.  Even though that probably wouldn’t have saved them.  But to stand with courage and accept the hatred and torture simply because of their faith and their heritage?  That’s where the awe, reverence, and love come into my experience.  I was overwhelmed with a love and sorrow for the thousands of human beings who were imprisoned, tortured, and killed within this ‘camp’s’ walls.   No human being deserves that kind of treatment.  No animal deserves that kind of treatment.  And maybe that’s how it all happened.  I believe that the Jews must have become so dehumanized in the eyes of the Nazis and Nazi supporters that they were viewed as something much less than a human; something that didn’t deserve their love or even their concern.  That they were something that was ok to kill by the thousands.   

The most heart wrenching exhibit within Auschwitz was one room filled with the actual hair that was shaved off of the prisoners upon their arrival at Auschwitz all those years ago.  The hair on display was only a small percentage of the hair that was collected, and yet it still filled the room.  It physically made me nauseous to see.  As superficial as it may be, as a girl, hair is so much of a part of my physical identity, and to see so much hair brutally removed and set aside, waiting to be woven into blankets horrified me.  Everything was taken from these human beings, even down to the hair that grew on their heads.  How could one be so cruel? 

After Auschwitz, I then travelled the short distance to Birkenau.  Birkenau is mostly demolished – only a few buildings stand in their entirety.  However, the hundreds of brick chimneys that were in each building still stand like a skeleton of the monster that was there.  These chimneys go on for what seems like miles.  They are a hauntingly large reminder of the terror that must have been felt by each of the prisoners.   The remains of two of the gas chambers also survive, surrounded by a monument.  It was truly shocking to see the size.  Unimaginable to think of it filled with human beings.  Terrifying. 

I will forever remember Auschwitz and Birkenau.  I hope that I will remember just how out of control a group of people can get and make sure that I always make decisions that are MY decisions and that I know are right.  I must make sure to love every person, even if for no other reason than the fact that they are a person, and hopefully for the thousand other reasons too. 

And after that, I have almost no way to transition.  So I’m just going to change topics.  Krakow.

Krakow, like I said, was wonderful,  I really loved it.  I got the chance to do so much there… once again, I’m not even going to try to summarize it.  The highlights will have to do. 

The city felt much more like a European city than Kiev--- pretty buildings, random streets, and tons of cute cafes.  It was so nice to just walk around and see the history and the people.  Everyone was so nice too!  (AND… drum roll please… the cars even STOPPED to let you cross in the crosswalk!  That NEVER happens here in Kyiv.  You literally have to run in between cars to ever make it across the road--- I feel like a real life, high-stakes, frogger game every day!).  The city was also very culturally rich - there were a couple of beautiful cathedrals, an impressive castle complex, and a gorgeous square downtown.  It really is a perfect little city. 

Being a girl and living with a bunch of girls really helps bring out the girly side of life.  So, in keeping with sounding like a complete girl, I have to say - the shopping was so fun :) They had this mall called the Galeria Krakow, and it was neat to just wander and stop in so many cute shops.  It really felt like I was back in America again!  But, even more fun than the mall was Old Town Krakow.  So many cute and random shops to get lost in!  To top it off, in the central square they had this indoor hallway that was full of booths on each side.   All of us girls bought amber rings and souvenirs for our families.  It felt like a classy Mexico :)

My favorite part of my time in Krakow (other than Auschwitz) was the opportunity I had to see the city from a bike.  On our last day there, a big group of us rented these cute old cruiser bikes with bike bells and just toured the city.  I loved it.  Like a little flock of geese, we pedaled around the busy streets of Old Town, climbed the hill to the castle, and just enjoyed life.   It was so fun!

But, let’s be honest, this trip wasn’t all relaxation.  At all.  In fact, I literally didn’t sleep the first two nights, compliments of a Ukrainian overnight train and then an overnight bus-ride across into Poland.  Yuck-o.  

The train.  Well, let’s just say, if I never have to spend a night on one of those again, I will die happy.  At first I was really excited --- a cool train to a new city, all in a bunk bed? Awesome.  But then the stinky (literally) truth hit me.   Let’s just say that being jammed into a bunk bed that is much too short for my body on a train that is sweltering hot next to a nude, snoring man isn’t really ideal conditions for sleep.  Haha.  But, in all fairness, it did get me there.  So I guess I shouldn’t rag on it too much… but, seriously, I don’t ever want to do that again.  One time was WAY enough for me!  Luckily we flew back to Kyiv from Poland so I didn’t have to relive the horrors :) jk. 

All in all, it really was a wonderful trip.  I may have come back more exhausted than I left, but it was completely worth it.  So wonderful :)  It just made me feel good to get out and live!

In a psychology class that I took about a year ago, the teacher made a big deal of achieving and recognizing a “sense of well being.”  When I am home in America, I believe that because this general sense of well being is fairly constant in my life, I don’t recognize it as poignantly.  I am fairly consistently happy and secure at home.  However, being in Ukraine has stripped me of this sense of security.  I’m still very happy, but life is very different for me now.  And, in an odd way, I am thankful for that.  This complete change has really caused me to consider my life as I know it.  I find myself constantly making lists in my head of things, people, and places that I’ll be so thankful to see again when I go home, ranging from the trivial to the serious.  For example – “when I go home, I’m going to sit myself down and really enjoy a cup of cold cereal, dangit!” Or “When I go home, I’m going to be so thankful for my sheets and my bed.” Or “I just can’t wait to give my parents a hug and tell them again how much they mean to me.”

Anyways, back to what I was originally going to write.  While I have been in Ukraine, and especially during my time in Poland, I have been struck at random moments with a resounding sense of “well-being.”  Whether it be when I’m walking by myself after successfully navigating the metro or matschrutka, or when I’m riding my bike through the town square, or when I’m enjoying a surprisingly sunny afternoon, this sense of ‘well-being’ creeps up on me, and it almost brings me to tears.  Life is good to me, and I worry that I don’t always appreciate it as much as I should.  Thank you Ukraine and Poland, if for nothing else, making me realize more fully how wonderful life can really be - each and every day.    

I have a man voice...

I’ve decided to make this blog a weekly thing. We’ll see :)

This past week… well this past week has been kind of a doozy! But here's the killer - I didn't do ANYTHING. literally.

Last Saturday, I started feeling pretty sick… extremely sore throat and nausea (I think because my throat hurt so much! That’s one of my first responses to pain…nausea. Ugh). Anyways, I kept hoping that it would all clear up on its own, but everyday I got worse and worse. Well, on Tuesday, I was feeling really bad so I talked to my head teacher, and she told me that she didn’t want me to come in and teach.  Thank heavens! I spent that whole day in bed, hoping that a little rest was all I needed, but it just continued to get worse :( And then I lost my voice completely. At that point, I came to the conclusion that this whole sickness business was getting a little out of hand, so I finally caved and let the director set up a doctor’s appointment for me.

To make a long story short, after having a ton of instruments shoved down my throat (which did NOT look sanitized to me!) and playing charades to explain what was wrong (The doctor barely spoke english, but I’m very grateful for the little he did speak!), I was diagnosed with acute tonsillitis and laryngitis. Funnnn stufffffffff. He wanted me to stay in the hospital for the next couple of days.  But, being the stubborn person that I am, I told him that I really really didn’t want to. After some apparently persuasive bargaining, he agreed to let me avoid the hospital stay. In return, I promised to stay in bed, not speak, and take all of my 5 prescribed medications dutifully.

Well, I kept up my end of the bargain, and let me tell you, it almost drove me CRAZY!

I hate hate hate laying around all day, not doing anything productive. I feel like such a waste of space when I do that! But, I had promised. By day two, I finished all five of the books that I hadn’t read yet. Out of desperation, I then turned to my host family’s small American movie stash. And when I couldn’t focus on the movies anymore, I’d take a nap. That, folks, is a recipe for depression! Just kidding, but really.  Don't worry - I didn't get depressed, but I definitely didn’t feel good about the situation - I was not cut out to just sit around all day... I wanted to be able to do something, anything!

Well, yesterday was day five of the prescribed exile-ment, and I was feeling a lot better! So, before my host family woke up and could protest my decision, I got myself on the metro and then the matschrutka and made it to church just in time. I felt like such a rebel, sneaking out to go to church and all ;) It was definitely the right choice – church was great –but it totally wiped me out! This being sick thing is definitely NOT my idea of a good time!

I’m feeling a lot better today, and this week should be pretty fun :)  Tomorrow night, I’m taking an overnight train to Poland and just sightseeing until I have to fly back on Sunday.  While we’re there we are going to see Auschwitz, the Salt Palace, tons of churches, etc., etc.   I’m (as my students would say) suuuper, suuuuper, suuuuuuuper excited :) haha    

Yay for travelling!