Driving out of the airport upon
arriving in Kiev, I suddenly was struck with an uncomfortably comfortable
feeling. Wedged between Amy and Nikki in the backseat of a recent model Mazda,
little realizations started sprinkling over us until full-fledged culture shock
came over us in surprising waves. At one point Amy and I looked at each other
and agreed that our plane had mistakenly taken us to Indiana and we were
driving up I-74. Little surprises came in the following succession: 1. sitting
in a nice, new car; 2. Seatbelts were instinctively buckled; 3. Traffic was
virtually nonexistent; 3. cars stayed in their lanes; 4. no honking; and 5. no
cows, children, chickens, or motorbikes were weaving through traffic.
Seriously, if there hadn’t Russian cryptic letters on the road signs, I could
have been convinced we were in America.
Getting into the city proved to assure
us we still hadn’t made it back to Kansas, but we continued being pleasantly
surprised with Eastern Europe. We arrive at our hostel on the 8th floor
of an old building. Though we’re not natural cynics, we tend to expect the
worse and were yet again pleased to find a small kitchen with fridge,
microwave, and hot running water. Having high hopes for the bathrooms, we went
on a hunt and found a Western toilet and hot showers. It was a beautiful thing.
We had a great meal and slept in probably the most comfortable bed we’ve found
on the race. The next morning we explored Kiev, which is a beautiful city and strolled
through a town-wide party advertising for the 2012 European World Cup. We ate
some McDonald’s (they actually served meat!) and had to get on a bus to come to
Crimea, the southern tip of Ukraine. The bus was a wonder in itself. Each
person had plenty of leg room, no one was allowed in the aisles. We were served
tea or coffee every 4 hours and were given chocolate cake! Amber tried to lie
in our aisle and the lady yelled at her and stormed off cursing in Slavic under
her breath.
We arrived at 6 in the morning and
were greeted by the most precious lady I’ve ever met, only to be rivaled by her
sister, whom we’re staying with. We drove for about an hour to the west through
rolling meadows dotted with vibrant red flowers to an idyllic seaside town
reminiscent of an old coastal town in New England. Right down the street from
the shore of the Black Sea, we stopped at our saintly host’s house. Anya and
her husband, Andrew, have 5 children of their own, have adopted 6 others and
also house 3 nieces and nephews. They have two dogs, two puppies, two cats, a
rabbit and beautiful gardens. We were ushered into the quaint house and served
an amazing breakfast that exceeded my dreams: fresh eggs, green onions from the
gardens, fresh honey, fresh bread, CHEESE, meat, coffee and NO RICE. I fell in
love with Anya right then. We were overwhelmed and so thankful. This family is
beautiful. Anya told us all she ever wanted was to get married and have kids
and with a mischievous smile on her face she tells her husband she married him
because he was beautiful and she wanted beautiful children. Her children all
play a slew of instruments and sometimes they take their band out and play as
they walk down the street. I know you’re thinking I am sensationalizing this,
but I’m serious. I feel like we’re in Ukrainian version “Sound of Music.” They
even have a small washing machine where I actually had my clothes washed for
the first time in months AND there are hot showers/western toilets. We dipped
our feet in the icy water of the Black Sea and marveled at the amazing lunch
and dinner we were served. This morning I made my grandpa proud and was taught
how to make Borsch from scratch. I saw my Hungarian ancestors smiling down on
me because my Borsch was life-changingly good.
Anya has promised to teach me to
cook more Eastern European dishes, so I am in heaven. I’m not exactly sure what
ministry looks like this month, but if it looks anything like morning runs to
the Black Sea, being taught by a saint how to cook in a homey Slavic kitchen,
and playing instruments with 14 precious kids all month, I could not be
happier.
