Today marks one year in Ukraine (well, minus that one week in Georgia)! I've been thinking about this jubilee a lot lately, trying to figure out how time is relative to me. Yes, in many ways it does feel like a year, but thinking about getting on that plane in New York seems not quite that long ago. In Ukrainian, Ukraine is Україна, meaning it's a feminine noun. Ukraine is treated as a female, referred to as a motherland. I've been thinking about my relationship with Ukraine as a same-sex partnership, using sexist stereotypes in an attempt to classify what she means to me. She's beautiful and has so much potential that's being thwarted by an old system. She's passive aggressive, pretending everything will continue on the surface despite what catalogues of yesterdays has piled upon her. She puts up with an abusive relationship because history defines her identity; who she is.
Yesterday was my birthday. I celebrated Saturday evening with fellow volunteers, walking along Kyiv's main streets. On Sunday, the actual day, I spent most of the daylight on a bus back to site. I was okay with it, it was nice to stare out the window and have an excuse not to do anything. At school today, I was greeted with flowers and many "Happy Birthdays." Birthdays are a very big deal here. I'm glad mine was rather low key. Limited toasts. The school gifted me with a journal and in the afternoon I treated them to a cake I picked up in Kyiv at the country's most famous bakery. This act definitely won them over.
I want to thank Midway for the card shower I got! The post office workers think I'm really something special. I'm guessing I receive more mail than anyone else in the village.
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