The second half of our time in Ukraine began with a bang: the sudden and unexpected announcement that we would be serving in a village about an hour outside of Odessa. We had 12 hours to pack and prepare. We realized the lack of warning was mostly due to language barriers, but were frustrated nonetheless.
The next morning dawned early (as it always does in a country where the sun is shining by 4:30 am every day) and we stood bleary-eyed at the gate with our things, waiting to head off.
The van ride out was crowded and everyone was silent and groggy. Our host, Maxym, was blasting Bulgarian music over the loudspeakers. I didn’t mind too much, it seemed a fitting soundtrack for the time. Stuffed in this white van, trundling down one of the few highways in Ukraine, passing beautiful sunflower fields left and right, I wondered what on earth we were about to get into.
When we arrived at the village, it was like we had stepped into a new world. The houses were covered in red, blue, yellow or green tiles. The yards were full of gardens in almost every square inch. Everything we saw was practically oozing color.
Our host, Alexi, was kind and wise. A young girl named Lydia translated for us.
We spent our time there doing manual labor in the church yard and hosting English clubs for the people in town.
We met the village English teacher, who was bursting with enthusiasm when she met us. She told me that I was the first chance she ever got to speak to a native English speaker, since the Iron Curtain was still up while she began her career.
We met an ex-Soviet soldier, who told us stories of leading his men through harsh winters and praying they would survive.
Our next door neighbors brought us fresh eggs and milk. Since they didn’t know any English and we didn’t know any Russian, we all hacked our way through amiable conversations peppered with hand gestures and laughter.
Of course, there were some things that took adjusting to. Our toilet was a hole dug in the ground and our shower was a bucket of rainwater that might be warm or might be cold or might not be there at all. Our bed was a hardwood floor. Our dining room was a small plastic table outside in the courtyard.
I enjoyed it though. It was fun to spend time away from everything I take for granted. And it turns out that squatty potties build some balance and muscle in your legs. Who would have thought?
Overall, I was a little sad when a Russian man wearing a shirt that said “Cowgirl tough” in English (I’ve learned my lesson about buying shirts in languages you can’t read) came to drive us back to the city in his small green car. With some of our backpacks stuffed in the trunk and other backpacks tied to the top of the car, we lurched and zipped back to Odessa.
