Walking/Slipping/Falling in a Winter Wonderland

When I returned to America in June, I fielded a lot of questions about my time in Ukraine. Naturally, one of them was about winter.

Often when people think of Ukraine, images of snow, ice and bitter cold instantly come to mind, and prior to coming to this country, I also imagined that winters were something like that. And to an extent, last year's winter did not do much to break down that stereotype.

Now, I'm from a Midwestern state where I became accustomed to snowy winters. So when I learned I'd be heading to Ukraine, there were things that I made me a bit apprehensive, but winter wasn't one of them.

Here's my training site Chernihiv after the first snowfall. So pretty and yet so deceptive!

Winter in Ukraine is similar and yet very different from winter in Illinois. First of all, snow started last year in November and didn't truly stop until nearly April. According to Ukrainians, this past winter was among the worst since the '70s. Of course, as I'm writing this post, Ukraine is experiencing a freakish warm spell, so who knows what's going to happen this year.

But regardless of today's 'balmy' weather, I know one thing for sure – the snow and winter and ice and the slipping and the hats and the gloves and the thermal underwear and the boots … it's coming.

So you might be wondering – what is one of the differences between a Ukrainian winter and a Midwestern winter? Well, let me give you an example:

Every morning, I have a 25-minute walk to school from my dormitory. On my way, I often walk in a parade of students also headed to school.

Once, I was running a bit late (surprise), and was in a hurry. So I tried my best to hop from one solid ice patch to the other and in turn, effectively dodge the 4-5 inch slush puddles on our road to school.

About 5 minutes into the journey, I had been relatively successful, and my feet were only damp, not soaked. I had learned early that winter that my "waterproof boots" from Cabela's were only lightly water-resistant.

So, after achieving some measure of success, I took my focus off the ground immediately in front of me and decided to look ahead.

This is about a half of a block away from fence-walking incident

That's when I noticed the students walking very strangely next to the wire fence that lines the road. As I got closer I realized why and that I, too, would have to walk like this.

In this section of the road, there were no icy patches for hopping. There was only a small, slanted icy strip that ran alongside the fence. The only way to successfully make it to flat, solid ice again was to turn sideways, cling to the wire fence with both hands and shimmy my way down the rest of the block.

Of course, the female students walking in front of me were able to do so with grace and flair and in 3-inch high heel boots. All the while, I – and my no-nonsense flat brown boots – shimmied with the grace of a gorilla.

The worst part happened when I began to lose my balance midway through the journey. To avoid falling completely in the slush puddle, I had to put my left foot down. This meant submerging my foot into icy cold water that stopped at the bottom of my calf.

As we say in Ukraine, "Oy."

Look for more stories like this in the coming months. Hilarity and hijinks seem to follow me around Ukraine. :)

Learning a language can be really tough!

Me: "вибачте, я розмовляю українскою мовою погано."

Ukrainian: "мне тоже."

Translation:

Me: "I'm sorry, I speak Ukrainian badly."

Ukrainian: "Me too."

The above is an example of the beginning (and oftentimes, the end) of a lot of conversations that I have in Kremenchuk. Of course, it should be noted that the response in my example here is actually in Russian, not Ukrainian, because that is the preferred language of the 230,000 people living in my city.

By and large, people here can understand me when I speak Ukrainian to them, but they usually they respond in Russian. As a result, I'm now able to pick up most basic Russian words and phrases, so that when I hear them, I can still respond, but often I'm left in a cloud of confusion.

This summer, a Ukrainian friend invited my site mate, Jake, and I to spend an afternoon on his father's boat. Unsurprisingly, the people on the boat spoke Russian, but they did make an effort to speak Ukrainian when asking me a question.

At the end of the day, Jake and I sat alone in the bow of the boat while we cruised back to the dock, and I figured out how to sum up my frustration to Jake, who learned Russian. I explained that I appreciated when the boat's occupants would switch to pure Ukrainian for me, but for much of the day, I'd sat in a whirl of words that I didn't understand until otherwise called upon. Everyone, including Jake, was able to understand and laugh at jokes, while I just smiled in fake comprehension.

That day was the last straw, so to speak. Without question, I'm going to start learning Russian this winter. If winter is anything like the last, I'll have plenty of snowy days that will keep me homebound and able to focus on studying.

One of the core values of Peace Corps is community integration, and I feel like this is one major obstacle I will need to overcome in order to help become a part of the community here.

It has been difficult for many Ukrainians to understand why I speak only Ukrainian, because for many of them speaking both Ukrainian and Russian has been their reality for their entire lives. And many people even mix the two languages. When that happens, they call that Syrzhik.

Most people tell me that Ukrainian and Russian are very similar languages, and in many respects, they are because they share nearly identical alphabets, but in practice, it's still quite hard to understand.

The issue of language in Ukraine is complicated. There are many perspectives to consider when trying to understand this, and although my journalistic instincts want me to reduce this issue to a sound bite, that's really impossible and a disservice to Ukrainians. So in lieu of a sound bite, how about a list?

• When trying to explain the language complexities of her country, one Ukrainian Peace Corps employee said Ukrainian often reflects the number of countries that have occupied it from time to time – Hungary, Poland, Russia, and so on. She said that with so many countries trying to take over the country over the last few centuries, there's no longer such a thing as pure Ukrainian.
  
• Of course, the most recent example is the former USSR, modern-day Russia. Schools were taught in Russian, business was done in Russian and therefore, much, if not all, of a Ukrainian's daily life was conducted in Russian. Ukrainian still existed as a language, but usually it would be found in the villages. I'm told that bigger cities like mine primarily, if not exclusively, used Russian.
  
• After declaring independence in 1991, the Ukrainian government established Ukrainian as the official language. Of course, this sort of change does not happen overnight, and often in my school, children are still learning English from Russian-language textbooks.
  
• Another Peace Corps employee, who grew up in Kremenchuk, told me the story of her parents, who were Russian immigrants. She said during Soviet times, the government offered moving and living incentives to Russians willing to move to Kremenchuk and work at the city's many factories. She says that's one reason why Russian is so popular in this city.
  
• Many people in eastern Ukraine (and even central Ukraine, where I live) still have family living in Russia and some see Russia as a neighboring state, not country. In the south, you have the complicated history of Crimea and Simferopol.
  
• One day, a repairman came to fix some things in my apartment and after he asked about my nationality, he told me that he is Russian and does not speak Ukrainian. So I asked him when he moved to Ukraine, and he said he was 2 years old.
  
• If I had a penny (or even a kopeck) for how many times someone in Kremenchuk (a.k.a. the big city) has scoffed at Ukrainian, I'd be rich. Usually it goes something like this, "Ukrainian? That's the language of villagers."
  
• Most recently, one candidate (who is now Ukraine's president) during the presidential campaign proposed changing the official language from Ukrainian to Ukrainian AND Russian. Among my teachers, this often led to heated debates. The ironic part was that the teachers usually debated each other in Russian over whether to change the official language. (It should be noted – some students at a weekend debate camp have helped to explain why such an idea must be clearly worded as a second OFFICIAL language, not a NATIONAL language. After years of Russian control, many Ukrainians are quick to reject any form of a Russian identity.)
  
• Often in class, many of my students tell me that everyone should speak Ukrainian, because there are many problems in speaking two languages. I always follow-up with the same question, "And what language do you prefer to speak?" Once a girl was particularly passionate that people should speak Ukrainian to be considered true patriots. As usual, I asked her my question, to which she paused and then quietly responded, "Russian. I suppose it is my problem, too."