Last Update from Ukraine

Yesterday I had my last haircut in Ukraine, and Sveta cut off the last remnants of red from when I dyed my hair two years ago, at the end of training. Somehow I'd forgotten that there was any of it left, and when she announced that it was gone I was surprised.

And now the red is gone, I guess it's time to go back to America.

I can't believe how quickly the last two months passed. One minute I was celebrating the opening of the Resource Center and scrambling to get materials together for meetings with the regional English teachers. Now here I am, Resource Center complete, meetings finished, and various piles of belongings (sorted into packed, to be packed, for new volunteer, for teachers, for anyone who will take it) scattered around my living room, waiting for me to deal with them.

Today was my last day of school; tomorrow is my last visit, when I'm going to say goodbye to the teachers. (I think they're planning something, although I really have no idea what. I just hope that whatever gifts they give me are small. One of my friends got 4 bottles of wine and a set of teacups--and her bags were full before that! I don't expect that much, though.) Two of my closest Peace Corps friends are now officially RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers).

When I first arrived, people here asked me if I missed home, and I always said No, which was the truth, though I felt a little guilty about it. I mean, sure, I missed home--but not in the aching, desperate way that they expected me to miss home. But now when people ask I say yes, I miss home. There's something about knowing that I'll be back soon that makes me miss home more than before.

But first I have to survive the goodbyes. They officially start tonight, when I have my goodbye dinner with my host family. I feel like this is my first real goodbye; saying goodbye to my classes hasn't felt real, because I've still been around school, and seen the kids in the halls. Even today, saying goodbye to my favorite class, I said, "But I'll be in school tomorrow, too, so maybe I'll see you!"

I hate goodbyes. I don't want to dwell on it.

On Sunday I leave Chernomorskoe. Overnight train to Kyiv, one day of paperwork in the office there, and I leave on Tuesday. Amazing how the time has gone. This is probably my last post from Ukraine, but I'll write a note or two when I get back to reflect on the experience as a whole. I don't feel that I have the perspective to do that now. Everything is a jumble, with too many conflicting emotions.

I'll leave you with a quote:

How did it get so late so soon?
It's night before it's afternoon.
December is here before it's June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?
  -- Dr. Seuss

Two Years

Today, amazingly enough, is not only Teachers' Day. It's also the two-year anniversary of my arrival in Ukraine. Time really flies.

Lately I've been noticing again things that have generally shifted to the background, no longer remarkable. On a bus to Simferopol last week (a purchasing try: I went with a friend to buy books for the new Resource Center), I found myself sitting in the dusty, rocking bus and watching the grey landscape roll by, the crows sweeping up in sheets from the harvested fields, the way I did a year and more ago. In my two more months here, how many more trips will I make to Simferopol? How many more times will I watch this landscape?

Walking from errand to errand in town, I remark again on the sidewalks. I'm going back to the land of smooth, even walkways, where I don't need to watch my every footstep. And I'm going back to the land of cars, of course. How much will I walk at all? I'd like to think that I'll still walk a lot, but am I fooling myself?

At school today I got flowers from classes that I don't even teach: classes I may have visited once, or taught in a previous year. My students know I'm leaving; they're sad when we talk about it, and everyone asks me--more often even than when I first arrived--Do you miss your homeland? Will you come back to visit?

The answer to the second question is easier: I'd like to, I say, but it's an expensive trip and I'm not sure when it will be possible.

The first question is more difficult. Yes, I miss America, but I'm also a little afraid of it. It will be so big and noisy and accessible. Funny to be intimidated by accessibility, but I am. I'm dazed and overwhelmed by my infrequent visits to Ukrainian grocery stores, and the biggest Ukrainian grocery store doesn't hold a candle to the average American one. I don't think I'll know what to do with myself.

At the same time, there are some things I want with a strange sort of craving, like a hunger. On that same trip to Simferopol last week, watching the sun come up, I suddenly really wished I were in a car, beginning a road trip, and that I could pull over at a gas station somewhere and buy a big coffee, and pour in some of that flavored creamer they sometimes have, and then get back on the road with a coffee at hand, and the steam from the coffee making the whole car smell good. And outside the sun would be coming up.

This was the first time since I got here that I've actually missed driving, and I pulled out my drivers' license (which I'd retrieved from a safe in Kyiv last time I was there, but not really looked at in two years) and realized that--contrary to what I'd thought--it did not expire in 2006, but in 2007. And I was so happy.

I haven't even mentioned family and friends, although of course I miss them, too. But there are people here that I'll miss when I'm gone. I've started thinking about gifts, and putting aside the things that I want to give to certain people when I leave. I'll give this book to Albina, and those two to Inna. What about all the children I work with? My debate kids especially. I need to do something for them, too.

I should probably throw myself a couple of goodbye parties, although that's a big expense and a fair amount of work to boot. I haven't decided about that yet.

So here I am, on my two year anniversary. I didn't even realize it until another volunteer sent me a message.

Time flies.

Teachers' Day

This week there is a significant school year holiday: Teachers' Day. The holiday is on Sunday, but we are celebrating on Friday. Actually, we started celebrating on Wednesday. At two o'clock there was a big concert at the Doma Kultura (House of Culture), which is the main concert and conference venue in town.

The concert (someone else I talked to called it a conference instead of a concert) started off with a big awards ceremony. Just about every school event I've been to has started that way: with awards being presented and certificates handed out. The First Bell starts this way, and so does the Last Bell. At the Teachers' Day concert, this took a long time, because there were a lot of speeches to accompany the awards. There were awards for teachers from all three schools in Chernomorskoe, plus the school in so-close-it's-practically-Chernomorskoe Novoselskoe. I also heard a few other schools mentioned, although from what I could tell no one from those schools was actually present.

I sat in the audience and zoned out while all this was going on. I was also feeling a little underdressed, since most of the teachers were very dressed up. When I mentioned this to the friend I was sitting with, and English teacher from a different school, she said she didn't think they were dressed up at all--they just liked to dress up every day. Which is true enough, but believe me when I say they were even more dressed up than usual. I was only wearing jeans and a sparkly knit shirt--even less dressy than my usual school clothes, due to an unfortunate lapse in judgment on my part that caused me to leave my balcony window open during a big wind and rain storm last weekend, resulting in a soaked balcony and a very unhappy downstairs neighbor. My balcony is still drying out, and I haven't wanted to hang any wet clothes out there. So I haven't done any laundry in a while.

Anyway, after the seemingly interminable awards ceremony was over, the talent show portion began. I call it a talent show because I really don't know what else to call it; I've never been able to think of a word in English that does a better job of explaining it. I have yet to meet a Ukrainian who doesn't love to perform, young and old alike, so most school events include--following the awards portion--a talent show. Every school presented at least one act; quite a few teachers sang, and some students sang or recited poems. One teacher presented a "comic" dance, and another a "gipsy" dance. My school had a skit, a variation of one they'd done for the first bell, and all the young teachers came out, dressed all in black, and danced. It was quite a success.

My friend asked me why I wasn't up there dancing too, and the honest answer is that no one asked me. (Though--again, honestly--I probably would have said no even if they had asked.) The fact that I was at this concert at all shows that I understand a lot more about what's going on around me than I did a year ago, because I'm pretty sure this concert is a yearly event, and I just didn't know about it when it happened last year. That tends to happen a lot to me: there will be some event that everyone goes to, and I won't hear about it until the next day, when someone asks me if I went. But people rarely think to tell me about it ahead of time.

I think part of it is that they don't understand that I don't understand or even bother to look at a lot of the notices that get put up in the school (most of them are administrative, and in Ukrainian, and irrelevant to me) that announce things, and that I just don't know the things that they take for granted that everyone knows. The only reason I found out about Wednesday's concert is when my coordinator said that she was preparing a dance for Teachers' Day, and I asked when I could go see her. I had no idea it was a city-wide event until about an hour before the concert.

Another example of this phenomena happened a couple of weeks ago, on Gas and Oil Workers Day, a holiday I learned about only because no one showed up for debate club. The woman I work with there then explained about the holiday, and told me that there would be a big concert that evening at a complex on the other end of town from where I live. Apparently they usually get pretty big singers to come, although this year it was a group and musical style that wasn't as popular, so this woman wasn't planning to go. "You should go, though," she said. And when I replied that I really didn't like to go by myself (not to mention that it wouldn't be safe to walk to this place and back by myself after dark, especially on a big drinking night), she volunteered her son to take me. Her son is 16. He has his own friends, and wasn't all that interested in the concert anyway. There wasn't a single thing about that "invitation" that was attractive, so I declined, and instead watched the fireworks that night from my balcony. Still, I was glad that--for once--I'd heard about the event before it actually occurred.

The next day I visited my best friend in town, who--of course--asked me if I'd gone to the concert. When I said that I hadn't had anyone to got with, she replied that I should have come with them; they'd been a big party, with lots of kids and grownups.

Sigh. If only I'd known.

But back to Teachers' Day. It's a fun holiday, and I wish we had something like it in the US. Here it carries the significance of a holiday like Mothers' Day or Fathers' Day. There are Teachers' Day cards sold at every card shop and the flower sellers do a brisk business. Classes give flowers to all their teachers, and bouquets and gifts to their "class teachers" (a class teacher is like a homeroom teacher). I should get flowers from all the classes I teach, although some of them will probably forget me because I'm not a "real" teacher. I'll still go home with a whole armful, however, since another teacher will probably give me some of hers. That's what usually happens, anyway.

There won't be real classes, although another volunteer tells me that at her school the students take of the role of teacher for the day. In my school the graduating class did this last year, preparing lessons for the younger forms. I'm not sure if that'll happen this year. In any case, after whatever token classes we have are over, there will be another small concert (this one at the school) for the teachers. Groups of pupils will sing and play musical instruments and dance for us. And then there's the party, open only to teachers. There will be some food, desserts, vodka, and wine, and most of the teachers will get drunk and start dancing. Eventually I'll slip away, and go back to my apartment to put my flowers in water before they die, and they will brighten my kitchen for the next week.

And that, my friends, is Teachers' Day in Ukraine.

I'm back

How to begin?

Sometime last spring, maybe a month after I last posted to this journal, I hit my one-year-at-site-plus-a-few-months mark. I have since discovered that this is a pretty significant mark, even if it doesn't have a very significant name. In our Health and Safety Manual, given to us when we arrived, we have a sort of matrix of the "Critical Developmental Stages in the Life of a Peace Corps Volunteer," put together by a group of Volunteers in Africa in the 1980s. It's really amazing how well it corresponds to the experiences of Volunteers in Ukraine 20 years later.

Here are a few of the issues Volunteers mentioned for the one-year-at-site-plus-a-few-months developmental stage: realization of own limitations and considerations of "post PC life", depression about perceived lack of accomplishment, and anticipated separation. Volunteer reactions to these issues included self-recrimination, disappointment, downgrading of achievements, resignation, monument building, withdrawal into work details, panic, and procrastination. Suggestions to help deal with these feelings include applying for GREs and writing grad schools, taking vacations, and making detailed plans for the remaining time at site.

I'd like you to keep all that in mind as I continue. (Also, I might mention that I only just remembered that I had this matrix, and fished it out of a dusty box hidden under a spare bed.)

So, around the end of February, I started thinking obsessively about the future, to the near exclusion of everything else. Suddenly it became very important to decide what I was going to do after Peace Corps. This happened shortly after the One Year mark, because that's when things stopped being New (with a capital N), and so I stopped wondering What Would Happen Next in Chernomorskoe, because I pretty much knew. There was less than a year left, so if I wanted to accomplish anything concrete I'd better get started doing it now...but at the same time it was so much more interesting to think about what was going to happen after the Peace Corps.

This quickly led to obsession and frenetic activity, especially because I suddenly found a new internet company in Chernomorskoe and was able to get cable internet installed in my apartment. I can't get dial-up, but I can get cable. Hallelujah!

I then spent all of my free time online researching graduate degree programs and universities, wondering, What do I want to be when I grow up? (And I had a lot of free time, especially since by then I'd given up on most of my students, the little monsters--and I don't mean that affectionately--and so spent very little time lesson planning.)

The Future was such an interesting subject that nothing else could hold my attention. Even more so because this was around the time that I found out that my favorite student, Ruslan, didn't in fact get the FLEX scholarship to spend his senior year in America. I still don't understand it. He was so crushed that for a couple of weeks he could barely talk to me. And I was crushed, too, because--even though I knew I shouldn't have--I'd pinned all my hopes and feelings of accomplishment on this brilliant boy getting this wonderful opportunity, and once I knew he didn't get it after all, I felt like a complete failure, and began to think that, in the 15 months I'd spent in Chernomorskoe I'd contributed absolutely nothing of value to the community. A complete waste.

And that's about when I stopped writing letters, or updating this journal, and started feeling pretty damn awful and spending a lot of time online looking at different grad school programs.

And then I got over it, more or less, because I had to. It's either that or go home, and I wasn't willing to consider that. So I took some time to wallow, then got on with it.

(Although I kept looking at grad schools.)

That's pretty much been my emotional life over the past six months, feeling miserable and lonely. (It didn't help that, since I'd stopped writing, the trickle of letters I had been getting slowed to an infrequent drip. I mention this only because sometimes people I don't know stumble upon this Journal. So, if you're a friend or family member of another volunteer in Ukraine, please write them letters. Please!) Remember the matrix I mentioned at the beginning of this post?

It's funny; when I was younger I wrote most when I was miserable and depressed. My words came out of anger and sadness, and when I was happy I never wrote a word. Now it seems like somewhere along the way a switch was flipped, because I haven't written a word--anywhere--in the last six months. I wonder when, and why, that change happened?

All that said, I don't mean to imply that I've really spent the last six months doing nothing but feel sorry for myself and look at grad schools. I really have been busy with other stuff too.

For one, I wrote a small grant to create an English Language Resource Center at the library in my town. It's a pretty small grant, but we're going to be able to buy a computer, some books and movies, and a TV and DVD player, all of which will be a great resource for all the English teachers in my region. They are so far away from the nearest resource center, which is in Simferopol, that the only resources they have access to are the ones they kept from college. I bought a few things for the Center over the summer, and this week I'm going with a lady from the library to buy the big stuff. Getting everything together, and holding trainings and meetings with the English teachers from my region, are going to keep me busy up until the end of my service. And it's great to know that here, at last, is something concrete that I can leave behind when I go. (Maybe I'm monument building?)

I also had visitors this summer--my parents came in June, and we had a great time exploring Crimea and Kyiv. This makes me pretty lucky, compared to most other volunteers: I've had three sets of visitors come to see me. A lot of volunteers don't have any visitors at all, which is too bad.

After my parents left, I worked in a couple of summer camps, then in July I went to Budapest for about a week with a couple of other volunteers. Finally, at the end of August, I went to my Close of Service (COS) conference, a week of rain and fun in the Carpathians with all the other remaining volunteers from my group. We came to Ukraine with 109 volunteers, if I'm remembering correctly. We are now 71.

And now, finally, I'm back in Chernomorskoe, with only three months left in Ukraine. I've become busy overnight, with only more work to come. (This is a good thing, because I'm always much more productive when I have a lot to do and can't afford to procrastinate. That's probably why I'm finally getting this post written.) And I have lots of paperwork to do before I leave Ukraine, not to mention those grad school applications. Yes, I'll definitely stay busy for the rest of my time here. It's a good thing.

Now, at last, I have a request. If you're still out there, I'd like to hear from you. Send a letter (or an email) my way. Make my day happier!

On the train

I have traveled to Kyiv at least once a month since September. Traveling to Kyiv involves an overnight train trip, and the trips are long and generally exhausting events, especially since I generally only stay in Kyiv one night before heading back to site. And actually, the longer I'm in Kyiv the more exhausting it tends to get, what with the expense and boredom--if it's a self-inflicted trip--or the late nights and parties--if it's a Peace Corps-sponsored event.

A year ago, a trip to Kyiv was an exciting, long-anticipated event. Now, I rather dread it.

Here's what it takes for me to get to Kyiv:
1. Take a bus from Chernomorskoe to Simferopol. The bus is probably old, dusty, and bumpy. It will stop for about 20 minutes in Evpatoria; including that break, it takes me somewhere between 3 and 3.5 hours to get to Simferopol.
2. Eat at McDonalds. Why? Because it's always a treat. And because I need to eat something before I get on the train. (I tell you, I was never so fond of McDonalds in America.)
3. Get on the train. The best train is the number 12, which leaves at about 4:45 PM.
4. Meet the other people in the compartment. Sometimes they're chatty; sometimes they're not.
5. Go to sleep as early as possible. Hopefully I don't have to go to the bathroom more than once. It's nasty.
6. Arrive in Kyiv around 8:30, if I'm on the number 12. The number 12 is an express train, so the trip's a little quicker than it is on other trains.
7. Either brave the Metro crowds (hopefully I have a metro token from my last trip) or walk to the Peace Corps office (about 2 miles). Crowded metros and long walks are good incentive to pack lightly.

There are two main ticket classes for the trains. The first, more expensive option is coupe. Coupe is a sort of closed cabin with 4 beds, two upper and two lower. There's a door that can be closed and locked while you're sleeping. There are almost always other people in the coupe with you, although I did have one 36-hour train ride last summer in a coupe all by myself. (I spent the whole ride worrying whether someone would join me at the next stop.) Peace Corps Volunteers generally agree that you're expected to socialize with your fellow coupe passengers.

Conversely, you're not expected to socialize so much with fellow platscart passengers, even though platscart has more passengers and less privacy. There are no doors, and the aisle is lined with another row of seats/beds. I don't like platscart because the beds are shorter than coupe and my feet stick out into the aisle, and people hit them when they walk past on their way to the bathrooms.

There are two bathrooms in every car, one at each end, although they're not always open. (I think the conductors sometimes keep the bathroom near their coupe locked so only they can use it.) Also, when the train is stopped, the bathrooms are always closed. Why? Well...where do you think the waste goes when you flush the toilet? Yup, you guessed it! Mmmm, mmmm. Train bathrooms (particularly platscart bathrooms) are generally pretty dirty. NEVER sit down on a train toilet. (And I should mention also that the trains are pretty bumpy, and tilt a bit whenever there's a curve in the tracks....use your imagination.)

The conductor comes around about an hour before your station and makes sure everyone's awake. You can buy (instant) coffee or tea, although I rarely do because of the whole bathroom situation. If you rented bedding (sheets, pillowcase, towel), then the conductor collects it. And everyone starts getting ready to depart.

Now, when I get off a train, I generally look like I just spent 18 hours on a train. When a Ukrainian woman gets off a train, she looks as fresh as if she had had a good night's sleep in her own bed and a leisurely morning getting ready for the day. Her makeup is flawless, her hair is perfectly coifed, and her clothes are neat and wrinkle-free. HOW? It's a great mystery. I watch them but I still can't figure it out.

Last week I was in Kyiv for a Language Refresher. Honestly, I don't know how well my Russian was refreshed. I haven't been actively working on it since last June, so I haven't made any great strides. A refresher gathers together most of the Russian-speaking Peace Corps volunteers--there are maybe 100 of us--and gives us about 4 days of language lessons. (One thing about seeing all the new recently-sworn-in volunteers, is that I realized just how good my comprehension is. I understand a LOT.) The problem with this is that, while we may spend the days speaking Russian, the nights are dedicated to English, friends, and beer. (Or vodka or wine, but mostly beer; beer is the cheapest and most readily available.) We get pretty loud, and I always feel sorry for anyone around who's not Peace Corps and has to put up with us.

Anyway, the point of this story has really nothing at all to do with the language refresher. I want to tell you all about my ride back to Crimea, and my conversations with the 3 men I shared my compartment with.

When I got to my compartment, Vyachyeslav Vladimovirovich (nickname Slava, which is way easier to say, even for me)--a retired teacher and soldier in his 50s (age is hard to guess, so he might have been in his 60s)--was sitting with a friend, eating sandwiches and drinking cognac. The friend was just seeing him off, and left a few minutes before the train arrived.

Hello! said Slava and friend. (All conversation in Russian, of course.)

Hello! I said.

We've been waiting for you! said Slava. (This is just a friendly greeting, because of course the seats are assigned and there's no way to know who'll you'll be in a coupe with.)

Introductions follow. Slava wants me to have a sandwich. He wants me to drink some cognac. He wants me to try one of his wife's pickles. (My wife makes the best pickles!) After much negotiating, I compromise and eat one sandwich and half a pickle, but I refuse to try the cognac. It's coming out of a plastic water bottle, and is therefore of unknow quality and potency. Plus, down that road is trouble. I never drink with people on the train.

Next to arrive is Phillipe. He's young (25, if I remember correctly), and he's not going all the way to Simferopol; he'll be getting off at at stop at about 3 in the morning. Phillipe has just eaten, and wouldn't eat any of Slava's food.

Last to arrive is Alexei, who is nicely dressed in a suit and doesn't socialize with us at all. (Though he will join the conversation in the morning.) I should mention that these are the first Slavas, Phillipes, and Alexies I have met in Ukraine. This is rather astonishing--sometimes I feel like there are only 5 names in Ukraine. Every class is populated with boys named Sasha, Dima, Vova, Pasha, and Alosha. So to have THREE new names in my coupe was unexpected.

Slava was very talkative. Usually I read my book on the train, but with Slava around I didn't have a chance. Slava--and Phillipe--wanted to know all about me. Who am I? What am I doing in Ukraine? What do you mean you're not getting paid?!

It was absolutely incomprehensible to Slava that anyone would do such a thing, but eventually he decided it was OK. Slava lives in Yalta, and made me write down his phone number so that I could come visit him in Yalta. I can bring any friends I want to make me feel comfortable, even a boyfriend. (Scandalous!) Surprisingly, I actually think I might call him sometime. It would be interesting.

In the morning, Phillipe was gone and Alexei joined the conversation. This time conversation was all about finances. They wanted to know how much money I got every month. I told them I didn't want to say (major cultural difference here; that sort of thing is regularly talked about here, and it's a little weird that I won't). After some discussion, we determined that Slava's pension is more than my living allowance. (Which means he's got a pretty darn good pension.)

Next we moved on to how I lived in America. I did tell them how much I made there, but then went on to explain how much my apartment was, how much I paid in taxes, how much I paid for my car, how much I paid for school loans. My former salary shrunk to a much less impressive size. Insurance and 401K payments shrunk it further.

The concept of retirement plans took up quite a bit of time. Alexei had some understanding of 401Ks, and that helped. Slava asked, upon hearing that this money was invested in the stock market, What happens if the market goes down? I told him this had happened, and some people lost all their retirement savings.

Social Security was much harder to explain. I really don't think I was at all successful.

The general consensus by the end of the conversation was that life in America is much more difficult/complicated than in Ukraine!

Playing Catch-up

Yes, I'm way behind on my journal! So prepare yourselves for some serious catching-up...this is going to be long. As a special treat, I'm including some of the text messages I've sent over the past six months. Divided into convenient topics and slightly edited to take out most names and any incriminating details! But this is my life, as recorded in the messages I send to my friends.

Life in General

Sometime in early October	to R Ah! Why is it so cold! It's only october. I'm freezing my [bleep] off.
Sunday October 9 (approx)	to A Made soup, banana bread. Cleaning. Went 2 see about metal door. Apparently they don't have any plain jane doors. Only expensive ones. Also @ market accidentally agreed to "communicate" with some woman's sailor son. (Woman who jokingly called me daughter in law a few weeks ago.) So it's a fun-filled day!
Monday October 10	to A Yikes! Took laptop to comp place to download virus stuff&yahoo&stuff. Charge by download and price 190 hrv! I asked how much like 5 times, so surprised. And didn't have it on me. Have to go back tomorrow to pay. Won't do that again. [190 hrv is almost $40.]
Saturday October 15 (approx)	to R Washed my black pants-the ones i bought last march and wear like every day-for the first time last night. So far they seem to have survived the trauma. Yay!
Thursday October 20	to Aunt J Question: How many oreos can a girl eat in one evening? Answer: Better not say! Am taking 1 bag to share w friends. The other's all mine!
Wednesday October 26 (approx)	to R Got the battery replaced in my watch today. You know how much it cost? 1 grive. [That would be about 20 cents.] Amazing. Doesn't that seem ridiculously cheap?
Tuesday November 15	to K Not bad! I dropped my phone 2x tho and it stopped working for a while. Dropped it a couple more times and hopefully fixed. Gotta be more careful!
Tuesday November 22	to K Thought you might like a weather report: we have 1st snow tonight in chernomorskoe. Hope you're well&healthy.

School

Sometime in early October	to R So one teacher, after telling me not 2 weeks ago what i'd be teaching every wednesday 4 whole semester-i only get 10 form [grade] on wednesday-is out for a month studying for a month for her institute. All her classes are canceled, and i am having a [bleep] of a time getting wednesday reinstated. And all the lessons she told me i would be teaching are irrelevant cuz she's not teaching the in-between classes. WHY didn't she tell me she'd be gone? She certainly knew.
Tuesday October 25 (approx)	to A Oh that's awful. I had a girl break down in tears cuz a boy drew all over her face in pen when they were supposed to be setting up their interactive notebooks. Sigh. Did I tell you?
Tuesday October 25 (approx)	to A I know how you feel, but take my word-it's not all you. I have a boy who last year was interested, tried to understand. This year he's just given up. Says he never understands me, won't do homework. It's so frustrating cuz i know he's got potential. But i had to give up on him, because otherwise he takes all my time and the others, who work, get nothing. So don't be too hard on yourself. It's survival.
Thursday November 10 (approx)	to A Good! And i'm not surprised. I know u are a good teacher. One of my problem classes is so bad that there's a big meeting tomorrow 2 decide whether 2 expel 10-15 kids from it&another form. They would have 2 go 2 the "evening" school. Means they've been written off. So sad, but what r the alternatives?
Wednesday November 16	to R Uchitelskaya [teacher's room] closed today cuz it's the oldest teacher in school's birthday & they're decorating. Hanging out in military dude's [he's a teacher--military preparedness is a standard class] room...posters of how to throw a grenade, assemble a gun, build a bomb shelter, wear a gas mask, dress a wound, stand in formation, etc. Kinda creepy.
Sometime in the middle of November	to A School is cold; no heat. Sounds like lessons will be shortened. I know ukrainians are proud of their educational system, but it amazes me that something they put such store on can be so disorganized and haphazard. How do these kids come out having learned as much as they do?
Friday December 16	to A I give a 10 [about equal to an A-] to the 2 best speakers (speaking control [test]) and everyone says it's low. Give an 8 to 2 girls and one starts crying. How can they be upset by these marks when they're totally unprepared, asking me to translate, & making lots of basic mistakes? If anything, the marks were high. Grr. Why do i feel guilty? They never do!

FLEX Testing

Friday October 21	to A So funny to be w kids. On bus to simfi. Flex tomorrow. Everyone quiet, except my three talking and laughing! Remember being a teenager?
Saturday October 22	to K So awful! A is too young by 5 days and cannot take test...so upset, tho coping ok. Test at 2:20. They are doing it in stages.
Sunday October 23	to R Finally on bus. Asked kids what they will remember. A said (after the whole not taking test thing) you. Ruslan agreed, said even though you did not talk with them much, you were so interesting and your face so full of life. Aww! (I am beginning to think Ruslan is a flirt.) So you have to come visit.

The American Council (I think) sponsors a program called FLEX (the Future Leaders Exchange program). FLEX is an exchange program that sends kids from various Eastern European countries to spend a year in American high schools. Last year some 300 Ukrainian kids went to America. All their expenses are paid, including a monthly allowance--so they can participate in typical US teenage activities. It's an amazing opportunity, opening windows that most Ukrainian kids never even know are there. Consider that most of the kids I work with (and this is not uncommon in Ukraine) have never been further from home than Simferopol--a three-hour bus ride away.

So I encouraged my students to apply, and three members of my debate team excitedly agreed. Next year hopefully I can convince even more. This is one thing I've gotten behind that I'm sure would never have happened had I not been here.

First of all, no one in my town had ever heard of FLEX. The regional methodologist received informational materials about FLEX for the first time this year, probably because I am here--Peace Corps and FLEX have fairly strong ties, for obvious reasons.

When I first mentioned the program to one of the other English teachers, her reply was a skeptical, "Do you really think they have a chance?" Because, unfortunately, the standard feeling here is that you should only try for things you have a reasonable expectation of achieving. There is no if at first you don't succeed attitude here. It's closer to if at first you didn't succeed...you had no business trying in the first place. For me, that's one of the more frustrating attitudes I deal with.

In any case, FLEX is--of course--a pretty competitive program. I wasn't sure how well my three kids would do, but I had my fingers crossed. I was pretty nervous because, coming from a small town, my students haven't had all the opportunities the kids from the cities have had. I was afraid their English just wouldn't be good enough to get them through the first round.

The FLEX testing has several rounds. The first round is a short multiple choice test with a pretty tough time limit--something like 20 minutes for 16 questions. It's mostly grammar questions with some reading comprehension thrown in. If you pass Round 1, you come back (usually the next day) for Round 2, which is a much longer and harder standardized test. Round 2 is based on the TOEFL test, which is a standard measure of fluency in English, used in universities and some businesses. FLEX uses something like a "pre-TOEFL" test--similar idea and structure, but easier questions.

Four to six weeks after Round 2, those who passed are invited to Round 3, which includes an informational meeting for parents, interviews, essay tests, and some group activities. Applicants have to fill out a substantial application form (a challenge in itself), get letters of recommendation and a certificate of health from a doctor, and hand in all the forms by the due date. Then they have to wait. And wait.

The participants are selected by a committee in Washington. Obviously the committee has a lot of applications to go through, so it takes some time. They don't expect to tell the lucky winners until April that they'll be going to America. (That's at minimum a 4-month wait; no easy thing!) They participate in an orientation/training program during the summer, and are shipped off to America sometime in August.

So much for the general FLEX details--probably more than you wanted to know, but I've spent a lot of time thinking and obsessing about this program, so...

I chaperoned three kids for a weekend in Simferopol. We left on a Friday, because the test was supposed to be early Saturday morning, and Chernomorskoe is too far a trip for us to have arrived on time. So I arranged for the four of us to stay with a very obliging Peace Corps Volunteer in Simferopol. This lady is amazing. Not only did she agree to let me and three unknown teenagers stay two nights with her in Simferopol, but she also cooked us dinner Friday night! Her hospitality is probably what made it possible for these kids to take the test at all--I don't know that they could--or would--have afforded the cost of a hotel, or two trips to Simferopol in one weekend.

So on Friday we left for Simferopol. I was the only chaperone for one 13- and one 14-year-old girl and a 14-year-old boy. Let me tell you, I have never felt quite so much like an adult before. There is something about being entirely responsible for the well-being of a stranger's child.

Saturday morning was Test1. We arrived right on time, then waited around for a good hour, amid general confusion and a great press of test-takers, for the doors to open.

And then, trauma. My youngest student was too young to take the test, and she found out only at the door. Tears followed, and I felt horrible. (Probably not as horrible as she did, though.)

FLEX is open to all students of the 9th and 10th grades born after a certain date. I think it was July 15, 1991. Something like that, anyway. I knew this, but somehow my student didn't. I don't know how it happened: I thought I'd talked to everyone about the birthday requirement, but either I missed her, or I misscommunicated somehow. However it happened, I still feel awful about it. She was too young only by five days, and to her it seemed like the most amazing injustice.

My other two students were almost equally upset, but rallied and took the test. The unfortunate younger student decided to stay in Simferopol--instead of going home a day early--and support her friends.

The test was much harder than expected, and the two test-takers were nervous. We wandered the city for a few hours and I bought them dinner at a pizza place. They played with my digital camera. At 8 o'clock we went back to the testing place to hear the results--if they passed there would be a second test on Sunday. After waiting for an hour and a half, the FLEX officials finally posted the results at 9:40. Bedlam--some 100 other students, and many of their parents and teachers, were equally anxious to find out if they'd passed. We finally determined that Ruslan (the boy) had passed; my other girl did not. Exhausted, we went back to the apartment. I had an awful headache (from a cold I got on Friday, stress, and dehydration) so I took something or other that knocked me out. My kids stayed up late talking and giggling...then woke up early in the morning for another dose of chatting.

In the morning we took Ruslan to the second test. It was much longer than the first, about 3 hours. After the test, he said it was easier than he expected. I was cautiously optimistic.

When the test was finally over, we had dinner at McDonalds before heading back to Chernomorskoe. I asked the kids what they thought of their weekend. They all said they'd had a good time--that it had been very interesting to meet other Peace Corps Volunteers, and to speak so much English. I was glad that, even with all the difficulties, they were glad they went.

Four weeks passed. I think I was probably more anxious than Ruslan to hear if he'd made it through to Round 3. I have an unfair number of expectations piled on this boy, which I try not to give him any hint of. But if there is any ideal candidate for the FLEX program, Ruslan is it. He's outgoing, communicative, involved, idealistic, ambitious. He has ideas, plans. He speaks English pretty darn well--and he's the only person here that has never been afraid to talk to me in English, even if I am an American. Ruslan's going places, I'm sure of it. (This is a kid that, only half jokingly, says he wants to be President when he grows up. And the thing is, I believe he could be!) FLEX was designed for kids like Ruslan. If he doesn't get accepted, I'll lose all respect for FLEX.

You see? I've got far too much emotion wrapped up in this kid being accepted into this program.

So I was sitting on the edge of my chair for the month it took for Ruslan to hear back from FLEX. He did indeed pass on to Round 3, had his interviews and filled out his application in November. At this point it's really a question of whether the interviewers saw in him what I do--and I can't see how they could fail to.

(I am ridiculously confident, which I'm trying so hard not to communicate to Ruslan. Because what if I'm wrong? I don't want to get his hopes up too much, only to have them dashed by a far-away committee.)

But now we're waiting until April--or thereabouts--to find out if he's been accepted. I estimate that about 80 kids from Crimea made it through to Round 3, and of those 80 approximately 10-15 will probably be selected to go to America. Let's all hope Ruslan is one of them! I'll keep you posted.

Late 20s

Thursday November 3	to R You know, now I am in my LATE 20s. I do feel older.
Thursday November 3	to P Thanks! It was a nice birthday. Kids were sweet, sang happy bday and gave chocolate. Debate kids threw party. So sweet.
Sunday November 6	to F Thank you! And thank you for the present! So surprised (and grimey and totally not dressed) when R & P & T & J showed up at my door this morn.

I turned 28 on November 3rd. There is something about that 8 that makes me feel so much older...I am no longer in my mid 20s; that 8 makes me officially late 20s. I never really have been one to think seriously about that perpetual interview question, where do you see yourself if 5 years? 10 years? I think I prefer to keep my options open. Such a long-term plan is only asking for failure, disappointment, or unnecessary rigidity. Of course I have ideas, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them plans.

But now I am 28. I'm single, no prospects. (Just the other day old coordinator asked me--again--why I'm alone. And a girl yesterday at debate asked me if I "met anyone" over my holidays.) I don't know what I'm going to do when I finish Peace Corps. I don't feel like I've accomplished so much with my life.

I know I'm probably being too hard on myself. Late 20s isn't old. I have plenty of time. But still...

My birthday was surprisingly nice. More memorable than most birthdays of mine; it did not pass like just another day (or week). I didn't think anyone at my school would know--I hadn't told anyone because I didn't want to have to bring in anything to celebrate. The tradition here is that the birthday girl must bring goodies for everyone else, and I am lazy. And cheap. And don't like the attention all that much. So I kept my mouth shut in the weeks coming up to my birthday.

But the school director remembered it was my birthday and brought me flowers, which of course notified almost everyone else of the event. In my first class I was serenaded (in English) with a rousing Happy Birthday to You! This is my favorite class, and they gave me a box of chocolate. It was really sweet. My other three classes also sang to me, but that first one was the best. And the biggest surprise.

In the afternoon I had my debate club. They all knew it was my birthday because there'd been a birthday date discussion just a week before on the way to FLEX testing. So I made a couple of batches of banana bread and brought them with me. Ukrainians LOVE banana bread. When I got to the debate room I was told to wait outside--they were preparing something. When they finally let me in the room, I was given a birthday hat (everyone had one, but mine had ribbons on it) and another round of Happy Birthday. They'd made posters for me, written signs on the blackboard, brought cake and tea. They did a mock debate on the topic "Who loves Carrie more." Key arguments: we come to class every week, Anya is wearing a sweater the same color as Carrie's, we sang Happy Birthday louder, Losha remembered to bring a camera. It was very cute. I was touched.

Then on Saturday, as I was lazing around in my PJs, dirty hair and completely messy apartment, the doorbell rang. Four of my Peace Corps friends had traveled from various parts of Crimea (longest trip 5 hours; shortest 1.5) to surprise me, bring cake, and take me to lunch. I was floored. (And, being me, totally embarrassed by the messy state of my apartment.)

So it was quite the memorable birthday! I had a good time.

Enter the Bird Flu

Friday December 16	to A [BLEEP] . Dr called me. Sounds like i'm going to Kyiv. It's not confirmed yet, but they're calling me back tomorrow. May get to see you off. And [bleep] , I just bought a bunch of groceries.
Saturday December 17	to A A year? That sucks! We'll all be gone! No call from pc yet, hoping they don't until it's too late for me to leave today. Hummus made, chili cooking, told post office i might be gone for a month. Still need to grade copybooks, pack, & cancel a bunch of meetings. But waiting for that until i am sure.
Saturday December 17	to K So far no word, though they didn't call till almost 8 yesterday, and if they're talking to washington before making any decisions...but so far i'm still here!
Sunday December 18	to R Pc never called yesterday so i'm still here. I hope they call today. I hate not knowing what's going on.
Sunday December 18	to A PC hasn't called yet. Wonder if they will? Downside of living on main street: i get an average of 2 sales people a week. Oh! And i got my first bit of junk mail in po box today! 1 year and 1 piece of junk mail!
Sunday December 18	to K, A Dr called me again finally. He says i can probably stay but was encouraging me to come anyway for mid service or something. It was kinda funny. And he seems kinda surprised that no one here is freaking out. Oh, and it's snowing! Maybe they'll actually close the school now. Lessons are already only 35 minutes, how much more can they shorten them?

Bird Flu intruded itself into my awareness in early December, when Ukrainian authorities announced that it had been identified in Eastern Crimea. They killed a whole bunch of birds, and quarantined the affected regions. Peace Corps takes the Bird Flu awfully seriously and immediately evacuated volunteers from nearby regions. In this case, evacuation means being called to Kyiv for an undefined length of time. Some seven volunteers were sent to Kyiv, including one of my best friends here. I thought it sounded like grand fun.

I was not evacuated.

I'm in Western Crimea, separated from the initial dead birds by miles of empty and frigid steppe. Still, I expected evacuation was imminent. After all, according to the news reports, birds had been dying for more than a month before the authorities stepped in. I couldn't imagine how it would not have spread pretty far in that time. I checked the internet every couple of days for updates (there were none), and eagerly listened for rumors from other volunteers (there were plenty). I pulled out my infrequently-used short wave radio and tried to find news updates. None on the bird flu. I tried to find news broadcasts in Russian on my regular radio, but no luck there either. I heartily wished--for the first time--that I had a TV. I asked around at school, but the other teachers were only interested in a very general way: "No, there's no bird flu in Chernomorskoe, and you know it's not really dangerous anyway..." I told a few people that, if bird flu was found near Chernomorskoe, I'd probably be called to Kyiv. No one seemed very concerned.

After a week, I calmed down and started seriously planning for the last few weeks of school, before the winter break. There was a lot going on; I was showing Miracle on 34th Street (the original black and white version), in segments, to my debate team, and planning to show How the Grinch Stole Christmas to my 8th graders as a treat on the last day of school. I had an important meeting to plan for on the 26th, and two friends coming to spend Christmas with me. There was Christmas dinner to be planned! (Tacos were a possibility, but in the end I decided on lasagna.)

So, concentrating on all this planning, I decided I wasn't going to be evacuated after all, and stopped worrying about it. Also, most of the volunteers who had been evacuated were sent back to site after a week. It seemed there was nothing left to worry about.

Then, at about 8:30 at night on the Friday before the last week of school--the 16th--I got a call. It was the main doctor in the Peace Corps medical office.

"How are things in Chernomorskoe?" he asked.

"Um. How do you mean?" I wasn't sure if he was asking a general question about life and work, or about the bird flu. Or even, as a bit of introductory chit-chat, about the weather.

"What are they saying about the bird flu?"

It turned out that the doctor had heard, from some unofficial but highly credible sources, that bird flu had been identified somewhere near me. I wasn't sure exactly where--he named a village I wasn't familiar with--but definitely somewhere in my region, or even in my town. He was surprised to hear everything here was calm. He said they (Peace Corps) would be discussing my case in the morning, nothing was decided, but that I should expect to be evacuated.

Suddenly, I did not want to be evacuated. I had plans! Things going on! And, in a fit of industry just that afternoon, I'd gone to the market and bought a bunch of groceries. I had planned a weekend of cooking and lesson planning. Also, I had a two-week vacation planned, so if I was evacuated I knew I wouldn't be back to site before mid-January--none of my groceries would keep that long. And I had a bunch of papers I needed to grade before the end of the semester. If I was going to be evacuated, I had an awful lot of ends to tie up before I went.

I cooked up a storm on Saturday, and tried to get my apartment in order. I went to the post office just to let them know I might be gone for a while--I didn't want my mail to get sent back. I worked and waited all day, but Peace Corps didn't call me.

On Sunday I spent the morning grading papers, wondering what was going on. I halfway packed for my vacation, and finished cleaning and organizing my apartment--just in case I would be here for Christmas.

Finally, in the evening, a call. It seemed like they decided not to evacuate me after all, though it was obvious they'd be happy to find another excuse to bring me to Kyiv. Was there any reason I needed to come? What about my mid-service medical? I wasn't really interested in this, though. I had absolutely no desire to go to Kyiv for a couple of days, then turn around and go back to site for a brief stay before returning to Kyiv for my vacation. Not fun. So I declined.

Monday afternoon, another call. More encouragement to go to Kyiv for my mid-service. Again I declined.

On Tuesday I had classes. I taught the first lesson, and in my between-classes window wrote up an (unposted) entry for this journal. In the middle of my second class, another call.

I was on the train that afternoon.

Waiting in Kyiv

Friday December 23	to J Thought you would appreciate that the movie playing in dentist waiting room is roger rabbit and jessica rabbit is dubbed by a VERY deep-voiced russian man.
Saturday December 24	to K I'm fine, decided not to start worrying until after my vacation. So far it's working.

At first I wasn't even sure I'd been evacuated. Medical scheduled me for my mid-service exams, and I spent the morning talking to other volunteers in the office, most on their way back to the States for Christmas. Then I got a call from the Country Director's secretary, scheduling an afternoon meeting for myself and the one volunteer from the first group of evacuees who was still stuck in Kyiv. I assumed it was a courtesy--just keeping me informed. After all, the other volunteer had been evacuated for about 2 weeks by then, and rumor said he might need a site transfer. (That's when you have to move to a new town.) I certainly wasn't in that position!

There was another volunteer in the office who did need a site transfer, although not because of the bird flu. Talking to him that afternoon, he said something like, "Good luck with your meeting! Hopefully you don't need a site transfer, too!"

And suddenly I felt a sinking feeling. What if my meeting wasn't just a courtesy?

Later, I heard another rumor: Peace Corps had just decided not to put new volunteers in certain parts of Crimea--including Chernomorskoe.

By the time the meeting rolled around, I was pretty worried. And it turned out to be warranted. I was given an option. I could take a site transfer if I wanted, or I could wait and see what happened. If I decided to wait, at any time I could change my mind and be given a site transfer.

I was...stunned. I was not expecting this outcome. How could I be? I'd been evacuated only that day--I hadn't been sitting around the office for two weeks like the other volunteer. How could he and I be in the same situation?

"But everything's calm," I said. "No one's talking about it. Are you sure?"

It made no difference. Bird flu had been found in my town. Chernomorskoe had just been added to the list. I could not go back as long as it remained on the list. And, given the unreliable way information is shared in Ukraine, who really knew what was going on there, or how long it would last?

After the meeting, we went out for beers. For the first time in my life I really wanted a beer.

And so I commenced to wait. The next day was Swearing In for Group 29. It was the strangest feeling, sitting in the Teachers' Hall, watching this new group become Peace Corps Volunteers. One year ago I had done the same...and now here I was, a year later, back in a similar situation, not knowing what the future held, or where I'd go next. The ceremony was unendurably long.

It was a lonely, boring Christmas. I was glad to have my vacation to look forward to. I kept my mind off potential site transfers as much as possible. My situation had changed so quickly...it could change back equally as fast, as far as I could tell. Why let it ruin my vacation?

Back to Site

Tuesday January 10	to K In Kyiv. Flying back to simfi tomorrow w dr to meet w various officials & see how bird flu in my town is. So maybe i'll see you?
Wednesday January 11	to K So our plane gets in at 8:15. We're staying at ukraina hotel. Not sure i'll get to see you. We're leaving super early in the morning for my site.
Wednesday January 11	to A I can't believe i'm staying in a hotel like this on pc's dime. There's an expensive chocolate on my pillow! And bellhops carried my bag! Super nice bathroom-with a tub! And a little paper on the toilet that says it's been disinfected.
Wednesday January 11	to A AND FREE CHEAP HOTEL TAPACHKI! [Slippers]
Wednesday January 11	to A And a mini bar that includes chilled condoms! HAHAHAHA!
Thursday January 12	to A :-) understand. Saw 2 people. Regional med lady said something like 4 chickens infected, all taken care of now. Vet lady (who i liked way better) said only 2 chickens (only 1 actually in my town) had virus. They & chickens near them killed early december & so far no recurrences. Course no bets longterm tho.
Thursday January 12	to A Back at brat. [The Bratislava hotel is where volunteers stay when they are in Kyiv on official business.] Leaving monday, although dr is NOT happy that heat in apt is broken and is threatening to keep me here till it's fixed-cuz i might get pneumonia. I on the other hand think it probably won't get fixed until I'm there to insist. So. Hopefully leaving monday.
Tuesday January 17	to R (to the tune of home on the range, of course.) Home, home on the steppe! Where the sheep & the goats eat the grass. Where seldom is seen...any prominent thing...and the wind blows your hair all a-mess!

When I got back to Kyiv after my vacation, I met again with the Powers That Be. I could still chose to have a site transfer, but if I was really intent on returning to Chernomorskoe I could travel down there with the Peace Corps doctor and talk to the officials there. If the doctor felt the situation was stable and the officials were honest and open with him, I could go back.

Of course I said I wanted to return to my site.

The next evening we flew down to Simferopol. Amazing to be flying and not taking a train...such luxury! We stayed that night at a hotel in Simferopol--a surprisingly nice hotel. Another volunteer told me later that she heard that this was the hotel where businessmen take their prostitutes. (Which would explain the condoms in the mini bar!) Just the same, I was surprised and impressed.

In the morning we took a taxi to my town. Amazing how much faster the drive is when you're not in a bus! We met first with the woman who is the head of the medical department for the Chernomorskoe region. She assured us that the problem was contained, that only four birds had been sick, and that we needn't worry. Teachers and pupils had been educated about the problem, and flu shots given to about 25% of the population.

Next we met with the assistant head of the veterinary department, and young woman whom I liked a lot. She told us that in fact only one bird had been confirmed to have the virus in Chernomorskoe, and one bird in a village outside of Chernomorskoe. Some 70 birds surrounding the infected birds were killed--this was in mid December--and there and been no new cases since then. She assured us that the situation was under control. She would not, however, give any promises about the future. That made me like her even more. How can anyone guarantee what will happen once the migratory birds come back through?

I had about an hour to stop by my apartment--the doctor was horrified because my heater was broken and it was freezing--and the school to let them know when I'd be back. Then we were back in the taxi, back in Simferopol, and back on a plane to Kyiv. I spent an extremely boring and expensive weekend in Kyiv, then on Monday hopped on a train back to Crimea. On Tuesday I was back in Chernomorskoe. (And my apartment was even warm!)

This is probably a good junction to talk some about how much of a health threat I personally consider the bird flu to be. After all, I'm talking a lot about the inconvenience of it. What it comes down to is that I'm not very worried about my health at all. I think the media are making a bigger deal about bird flu's threat than it currently warrants.

In its current form, bird flu is only nominally dangerous to humans. You can really only get it if you're "frolicking with the chickens," as I put it. And I'm not. The only contact with chickens that I have is through the meat and eggs I infrequently buy. And, if you observe proper sanitary measures--which I do--that's not a threat either. So I'm extremely unlikely to catch bird flu from any birds.

I'm even more unlikely to catch it from any people. There have been no documented cases (to date) of human-to-human transmission, anywhere in the world. It's simply not very contagious. On top of that, the flu shot this year was mandatory for all volunteers. While that doesn't make me immune, it does keep me getting sick with other viruses that would lower my immune system and thereby increase my susceptibility to bird flu. But, even if I were--somehow--to contract avian flu, Peace Corps has already given me a packet of Tamiflu, the prescription medicine being used world wide to (successfully) treat bird flu.

The fear, of course, is that the bird flu will mutate into something easily transmittable from human to human. Because we humans would have little immunity to this new virus, it could take off, creating a pandemic of awful proportions. That's what the media--and many doctors and epidemiologists--are actually worried about: not the bird flu in its current form, but the bird flu in its potential form.

But so far the flu is pretty much a bird thing, and there are a variety of theories about when (it's always a when, not an if) the mutation will happen. After that, the whole picture changes.

For the time being, I also don't feel like I'm in much more danger in Ukraine than I would be anywhere else in the world. This is a disease that's carried by birds. Migratory birds. Really, how can they stop it from circling the globe? So, for now at least, I'm not worried. And believe me: I'm being well looked-after by the Peace Corps. They are constantly monitoring the situation, and reevaluate the position of each volunteer with every change. No, I'm just fine. (Though I do wish I had a TV so I could watch the news.)

The Peace Corps doctor agrees that my town seems safe, although he told me he'd be calling the officials here twice a week (I think that's a bit excessive) to check up on the situation. I am also assured that if at any time I feel unsafe or worried about the situation, all I have to do is ask and I'll be given a site change.

For now, I'm just glad to be back. It's a cold and snowy weekend. Friday was a Snow Day--or maybe I should say Cold Day, since I think the school's closure had more to do with the temperature than with the falling snow. So here I am, catching up with journal writing and other things, debating whether to venture outside and run some errands. I probably won't--I'm enjoying the laziness. There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. (Maybe it'll be another snow day...)