Well, I played charades with Ukrainian school kids (in order to teach them English), changed a toilet seat, scampered around a fortress, bought a tea pot for $2 to take to tea pot impoverished France, drank tons of tea, knit and talked like old Russian grandmothers, ate tons of candy and kefir and cir, made curry, explored the land of water cut offs (we were threatened with 3 day's worth, but luckily got none), and the land of sudden power cuts (just 3 hours for us), and went to bazaars.
I should explain the bazaar (which I'll call market from now on . . . it's easier). The markets in Ukraine are like all markets should be. There were tents everywhere creating a maze of narrow pathways. People set up good on whatever they have, so, anything from tables to fancy counters, to boxes on the ground for potatoes. In case of rain, it's all easily coverable or packable and removable.
I followed my friend, T-- around the markets in her town, the fortress town, and Ternopol. I would get completely lost for long periods of time, and then things would slowly look familiar (I remember that giant inflatable raft in front of that clothing store!) and I would stop being lost for a bit, before turning down another random path and having no clue again. T--, however, never seemed to get lost at all. I was impressed.
The market sells everything you could possibly want. We bought incredibly cheap wool for scarves in the fortress town, and made friends with the stall lady, who taught us a pretty pattern. She looked wonderfully surprised when I accidentally told her that T-- was there to learn English, rather than teach it (stupid verb mix up). My mohair wool, and needles, cost $5. Which means that now, my nice, and incredibly long, green mohair scarf, cost me $5. Hmm . . . and when I say green, I mean it starts out almost white, then turns darker and darker, until it's forest green in the middle, and then it gets almost white again.
At that market, also, I got an umbrella for $3. One of the strings on it broke as soon as I opened it, and it has a tendency to invert upon opening, as well, but it does the trick for persistent, unhurried rain. When buying it, I thought I was just buying a pretty red umbrella. But when I opened it, it turned out to be graffiti-like flames and devils. So now I shall be walking around Lyon on rainy days with a flame-and-devil umbrella. Maybe the sky will get scared, and it'll stop raining . . .
In T--'s town market, we got milk in a plastic 2 liter cola bottle from an old lady. To me, it was heaven. To T--, it wasn't nearly as good as the milk that came straight from a cow in the village she had been living in the year before. I suppose a couple of hours' worth of wait does make a difference.
That was when T-- and a friend of her's and I made curry- we used that milk in it. At that same market, we also bought potatoes and onions, and a spicy looking pepper that wasn't spicy at all. It wasn't half bad, I thought.
I left some curry powder with T--, and that's why I have to come back. It's a Ukrainian/ Russian superstition that if you leave something behind when you leave a place, then you're gonna go back. And as for the problem of T-- using her curry powder? Well, she should just save a bit of it. Problem solved.
I should also explain a bit the charades. It was this brilliant idea we had, to play charades with two of T--'s classes. “Grandmother at the disco” and one of the classes' really mean teachers won for funniest interpretations, and it was a really good time. Oh, and I got to help the kids figure out some of the things they had to do, by using Russian, and they had no problems with answering me in Russian, too.
The other thing that I got to do at the school was see the Ukrainian version of a festival. I think I got there on some sort of Ukrainian independence day, I'm not too sure. According to T--, it's common to be celebrating something or other.
A festival is a big performance put on by a class. There's a stage, and everyone in the class goes up to perform, dressed in beautiful traditional Ukrainian clothing. The kids recite some poems about how great Ukraine is, sing some songs (there were some good singers) and do some dances. The dances were my favorite part. They did the kind where you jump with bent knees and kick your feet out.
By the way, I somehow managed to leave Ukraine with an entirely extra, giant grocery bag (of the nice variety) filled with my tea pot, wool, candy, new scarf, which was really a grandmother headscarf, I think, and a whole ton of grapes that came to T-- straight from a vinyard.
Song (To whatever tune you feel like. A ballady, sad one works quite well. A guitar is suggested for accompaniment. Add words as required):
I need a chainik
And I need a fork
And I need a taaable cover . . .
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