I've only had two rather amusing mistranslations here so far- most of my mishaps involve incorrectly declining my nouns and having a sentence with three subjects and an indirect object or something equally nonsensical.
слушать (slooshat)- to listen
слышать (sleeshat)- to hear
Through a very easy mistake, I accidentally told my host mother that I wasn't listening to her when I was trying to explain I couldn't hear her very well. She seemed rather taken aback before my host sister stepped in. (On a side note, I wish more languages had a progressive and affirmative tense. I do listen, I listen, and I am listening are all VERY distinct to me. I don't listen vs. I'm not listening- also very different.)
Much worse, however: Russian has at least two (often more) verbs for every English equivalent. There are, I think, four verbs that mean "to finish." One of them, I had been told, ends up meaning "to orgasm" if you don't use it with a direct object. So last night I'm taking a taxi home and am making conversation with the driver. He asked me if I was in the university, and I ended up replying, "Oh, no, I just orgasmed in May." Based on his reaction, and the fact that he very quickly said ZAKONCHILA (a different word meaning "to finish"), I realized I'd guessed the wrong one... Oops.
Why does it seem like half of my instances of language-botching results in me saying something sexual? I've told my French host father I was "aroused (excited) to meet him," my French host mother that I didn't want any more food because I was pregant (full), a German roommate that I was horny (hot), my French class that I wouldn't want to f*** (kiss) a smoker because I don't like smoker's breath. (There was a legitimate context to that last one, I swear.)
Sigh...
Sunday, June 27, 2010
You think you know, but you have NO idea.
I've been thinking a lot about poverty and standard of living questions since my arrival. This city sometimes seems to be wrapped in gold- as I cross the river every day, I see many churches with golden domes glinting in the sunlight. But then I see some very real evidence that the church is perhaps the one of the very few things touched by gold here. This is especially the case since the cop I met last night (the Ukrainian cousin of an American who was in Kiev to visit family) tells me that my neighborhood- one of the poorest in Kiev, is also the most crime-ridden. Great.
One thing that was particularly striking to me was the woman selling cherries outside my apartment building. There was one basket of cherries that were yellow and red streaked on sale for 24 grivnas. The middle basket had solid red, but light colored cherries for 26 grivnas. The most expensive were a vivid shade of red: the type I'd expect to see in an American grocery store. Those were 28 grivnas.
How sad, I thought. I can't imagine the sort of poverty where you would buy unripe produce to save 4 grivnas (about 50 cents.) That image really stuck with me.
Fast forward a couple days. My host family had left to spend the day in the "dacha," which is like a little village retreat for urban-dwellers. They come back, and my host sister brings me a huge bowl of cherries- one vivid red, and one yellow with some pale red streaks. Pointing to the red ones, then the yellow ones, she explains "These are normal cherries, and these are sweet cherries. You have sweet cherries in the US?"
Oh.
I'm not a huge cherry fan, generally. I think they can be too sour, and this is one of the few flavors where I much prefer the artificial version to the natural one. The sweet cherries, however, were delicious and I promptly ate every one.
Which other assumptions, I wonder, do I need to start rethinking? I can think all I want, develop these plausible hypotheses, and they can be ENTIRELY wrong. Until I've walked a mile in their shoes (or several miles on cobblestone roads in high heels, as the locals tend to do), almost anything I "know" is questionable. Sooo... I have about two months left, and I'm going to be doing a TON of walking. :)
One thing that was particularly striking to me was the woman selling cherries outside my apartment building. There was one basket of cherries that were yellow and red streaked on sale for 24 grivnas. The middle basket had solid red, but light colored cherries for 26 grivnas. The most expensive were a vivid shade of red: the type I'd expect to see in an American grocery store. Those were 28 grivnas.
How sad, I thought. I can't imagine the sort of poverty where you would buy unripe produce to save 4 grivnas (about 50 cents.) That image really stuck with me.
Fast forward a couple days. My host family had left to spend the day in the "dacha," which is like a little village retreat for urban-dwellers. They come back, and my host sister brings me a huge bowl of cherries- one vivid red, and one yellow with some pale red streaks. Pointing to the red ones, then the yellow ones, she explains "These are normal cherries, and these are sweet cherries. You have sweet cherries in the US?"
Oh.
I'm not a huge cherry fan, generally. I think they can be too sour, and this is one of the few flavors where I much prefer the artificial version to the natural one. The sweet cherries, however, were delicious and I promptly ate every one.
Which other assumptions, I wonder, do I need to start rethinking? I can think all I want, develop these plausible hypotheses, and they can be ENTIRELY wrong. Until I've walked a mile in their shoes (or several miles on cobblestone roads in high heels, as the locals tend to do), almost anything I "know" is questionable. Sooo... I have about two months left, and I'm going to be doing a TON of walking. :)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Babushka
When you go to a different country, it is so easy to notice what is different. Differences can excite you, frustrate you, intrigue you. I love that my commute costs 50 cents each direction, when you consider that my similarly-timed commute in DC was $4.50. I'm not so excited that I can't drink the tap water. I'm intrigued by the fact that my hair seems shinier and redder (something I noted the last time I was in Ukraine). It makes sense, really. My psych prof always talked about the "ways you mess with babies," and he always pointed out that a baby will fixate on things that are surprising, that are different.
What warms my heart most when I am abroad isn't so much what is different, but what is constant. I'm not talking about the omnipresence of American fast food (Full disclosure: I'm taking advantage of the smoke-free room and free wifi at McDonald's, the eatery my brother so fondly refers to as the "American embassy" when traveling), or the fact that people are, generally speaking, dressed in a manner most Americans would recognize. I'm talking about love, about families, about friends.
Last night, my host family's son came to visit with his wife and four-year-old son, Dima. My host mother fretted all day. She bought a huge bag of amazing fresh blueberries (MUST find out where she found those) and hand-made Dima's favorite dumplings (vareniki) from scratch. She beamed every time she talked about "our Dima." She couldn't wait for me to see him, and she babbled on for ages about Dima's every accomplishment. I couldn't understand every word, to be sure, but the look on her face needed no translation. She was a proud babushka, many of whom I've seen roaming around the United States. A babushka who would not rest until everyone had had their fill to eat and then some, who would be begging you to eat just ONE more vareniki as she spoons three onto your plate. You may only understand every fifth word, and your surroundings may be foreign in every sense of the word, but in moments like these, you are home.
What warms my heart most when I am abroad isn't so much what is different, but what is constant. I'm not talking about the omnipresence of American fast food (Full disclosure: I'm taking advantage of the smoke-free room and free wifi at McDonald's, the eatery my brother so fondly refers to as the "American embassy" when traveling), or the fact that people are, generally speaking, dressed in a manner most Americans would recognize. I'm talking about love, about families, about friends.
Last night, my host family's son came to visit with his wife and four-year-old son, Dima. My host mother fretted all day. She bought a huge bag of amazing fresh blueberries (MUST find out where she found those) and hand-made Dima's favorite dumplings (vareniki) from scratch. She beamed every time she talked about "our Dima." She couldn't wait for me to see him, and she babbled on for ages about Dima's every accomplishment. I couldn't understand every word, to be sure, but the look on her face needed no translation. She was a proud babushka, many of whom I've seen roaming around the United States. A babushka who would not rest until everyone had had their fill to eat and then some, who would be begging you to eat just ONE more vareniki as she spoons three onto your plate. You may only understand every fifth word, and your surroundings may be foreign in every sense of the word, but in moments like these, you are home.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
On Competence
I'm not the best at everything I do. Sometimes I'm not very good at all (but I don't want to hear one word about my driving skills from any of you right now). Generally speaking, however, I think I can call myself competent at what I do, and I like that about myself.
The first few days in Ukraine took me away from that comfort zone faster than I expected. As I mentioned in my last post, I couldn't find my way home- it turned out the east-bound bus stop was a couple blocks away from the west-bound bus stop, and I couldn't understand the responses when I attempted to ask for directions. I couldn't get my key to open the door. My host family doesn't have a microwave or a freezer, and the produce looks iffy to me, and I found myself in a huge market full of food and unable to make myself a meal other than a cheese sandwich. I've realized I don't necessarily know how to handle not knowing what's going on around me.
Thankfully, things are looking up. I made my way home without giving up and taking a cab yesterday. I now know how to unlock my door. I was able to successfully locate and purchase a notebook. I'm still living mostly on yogurt, cheese sandwiches, and bottled water, but one day (hopefully soon) I'll figure something else out. Maybe when my Russian improves I can ask my host mother to teach me how to cook Ukrainian food. ;)
The first few days in Ukraine took me away from that comfort zone faster than I expected. As I mentioned in my last post, I couldn't find my way home- it turned out the east-bound bus stop was a couple blocks away from the west-bound bus stop, and I couldn't understand the responses when I attempted to ask for directions. I couldn't get my key to open the door. My host family doesn't have a microwave or a freezer, and the produce looks iffy to me, and I found myself in a huge market full of food and unable to make myself a meal other than a cheese sandwich. I've realized I don't necessarily know how to handle not knowing what's going on around me.
Thankfully, things are looking up. I made my way home without giving up and taking a cab yesterday. I now know how to unlock my door. I was able to successfully locate and purchase a notebook. I'm still living mostly on yogurt, cheese sandwiches, and bottled water, but one day (hopefully soon) I'll figure something else out. Maybe when my Russian improves I can ask my host mother to teach me how to cook Ukrainian food. ;)
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Pleasant Surprise
Every time I go to Europe, without fail, I will not plan for the fact that markets are closed on Sundays, wake up one Sunday morning, realize I have no food, and starve. Last night I wasn't feeling well, and I finished off my supply of bottled water, and you can't drink the tap water here. I guzzled about eight cups of tea in the morning (not exaggerating), and was still parched. When my host sister finally wanders out of her room, I ask her if she knows of any grocery stores open on Sunday. I was hoping very much that I wouldn't need to go to one of the more touristy areas to find a street vendor just to get some water- it takes a good 40 minutes to get to the center from my part of town. She frowns as if I'm asking a trick question, and then asks me why they wouldn't be open on Sundays? Hallelujah. It seems mildly inappropriate to be thanking the health gods that I'm living in a country that had its religious identity stolen from it during the Soviet era and thus doesn't shut down on Sundays... But I'm too excited for this development to feel guilty.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Public Transit Frustration
I keep getting lost at my metro station. It's a huge station that serves a black market, and some 5 bus lines and countless "marshutkas" (route taxis... for all purposes a smaller and more comfortable bus- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marshrutka) serve it with drop-off and loading points around the market. I've no problems getting to the metro station, as there's only one bus stop outside my apartment. Getting home is another story because I can't for the life of me find my bus stop, and my Russian is fuzzy, and no one speaks English, and... sigh. I need to figure this out soon, as the cab ride to get home costs about $5, and I don't want to pay that much every time I leave the apartment. Especially since the marshutka costs approximately 25 cents.
Friday, June 18, 2010
En Route for Ukraine
Privet!
That's "hi" in Russian- one of the few words that hasn't quite left. :) I arrived in Kyiv yesterday, and here is my trip by the numbers.
3: Average hours I slept a night in the two days before my departure.
4:15: Departure from my grandma's house the morning of June 16.
140: Total allowed weight of my checked bags and carry-on.
170: Actual weight of my bags. (Took advantage of the fact that they don't weigh carry-ons.)
0: The amount of money I was charged for the privilege of carrying 30 extra pounds.
3: Total flights
15: Hours in the air.
10: Time difference between Bakersfield and Kyiv.
5: Hours slept on plan.
1.5: Hours to get from my arrival gate to the next departure gate at JFK.
4: Episodes each of Glee and How I Met Your Mother watched en route for Helsinki.
3: Number of screaming babies within six rows of me.
7.80: Cost of a tiny cheese sandwich and glass of orange juice in the Helsinki airport. (About $10 USD)
3: Number of people who tried to stuff my carry-on into the overhead bin before giving up and strapping it into the empty seat next to me.
1:20: Arrival time at the Kyiv airport the afternoon of June 17.
3: Number of kind (male) police officers trying to help a clearly flustered (female) foreigner carrying bags that weigh significantly more than she does.
2:45: Arrival at my new home.
24.5: Total amount of time spent in transit.
8: Approximate number of words I caught when my host mother introduced herself.
75: Temperature in Kyiv today, but it feels a bit hotter.
37: Cost of a four-pack of yogurt, 1.5 litre water bottle, beet salad, and cabbage and dill salad in grivnas.
7.96: Grivnas in a dollar
9:30: Notice the sun is going down.
9:50: Decide I've stayed awake long enough and get to bed.
5:00: Woken up by BRIGHT sunlight and decide to wait for the rest of the world to wake up and come play.
Love you all,
K
That's "hi" in Russian- one of the few words that hasn't quite left. :) I arrived in Kyiv yesterday, and here is my trip by the numbers.
3: Average hours I slept a night in the two days before my departure.
4:15: Departure from my grandma's house the morning of June 16.
140: Total allowed weight of my checked bags and carry-on.
170: Actual weight of my bags. (Took advantage of the fact that they don't weigh carry-ons.)
0: The amount of money I was charged for the privilege of carrying 30 extra pounds.
3: Total flights
15: Hours in the air.
10: Time difference between Bakersfield and Kyiv.
5: Hours slept on plan.
1.5: Hours to get from my arrival gate to the next departure gate at JFK.
4: Episodes each of Glee and How I Met Your Mother watched en route for Helsinki.
3: Number of screaming babies within six rows of me.
7.80: Cost of a tiny cheese sandwich and glass of orange juice in the Helsinki airport. (About $10 USD)
3: Number of people who tried to stuff my carry-on into the overhead bin before giving up and strapping it into the empty seat next to me.
1:20: Arrival time at the Kyiv airport the afternoon of June 17.
3: Number of kind (male) police officers trying to help a clearly flustered (female) foreigner carrying bags that weigh significantly more than she does.
2:45: Arrival at my new home.
24.5: Total amount of time spent in transit.
8: Approximate number of words I caught when my host mother introduced herself.
75: Temperature in Kyiv today, but it feels a bit hotter.
37: Cost of a four-pack of yogurt, 1.5 litre water bottle, beet salad, and cabbage and dill salad in grivnas.
7.96: Grivnas in a dollar
9:30: Notice the sun is going down.
9:50: Decide I've stayed awake long enough and get to bed.
5:00: Woken up by BRIGHT sunlight and decide to wait for the rest of the world to wake up and come play.
Love you all,
K
Здравствуйте
I suppose before I start blogging, I should introduce myself. My name is Katie. During my last week of classes at Claremont McKenna College, I thought I would be heading off to DC to teach pre-schoolers with Teach for America. On day two of finals week, however, my dream came true, and I was awarded a Fulbright grant to spend ten months in Estonia to study ethnic relations, integration policies, and to be a freelance photographer. To study ethnic relations, I needed to learn a bit more (ok... a LOT more) Russian so that I could communicate with the ethnic Russians in Estonia- many of whom speak neither Estonian nor English. To do so, I am here in Kiev, Ukraine to take intensive language courses.
The sun is rising for my adult life. I just graduated, I don't want to talk about my bank account, and I'm still rather daunted by the idea of trying to deal with finding an apartment, picking out a phone plan, having a landlord and paying utilities and all that fun stuff that comes with being in the real world (with the added bonus of a language barrier.) But in the end, I'm so excited to start this next phase of my life, and I feel hopeful.
I think this is also an exciting time for Eastern Europe. Ukraine and Estonia gained independence shortly after I was born. Both countries have had some growing pains, but I think these countries- both some of the first in Europe to see the sunlight every morning- have bright futures. It's time for us to grow up together. :)
The sun is rising for my adult life. I just graduated, I don't want to talk about my bank account, and I'm still rather daunted by the idea of trying to deal with finding an apartment, picking out a phone plan, having a landlord and paying utilities and all that fun stuff that comes with being in the real world (with the added bonus of a language barrier.) But in the end, I'm so excited to start this next phase of my life, and I feel hopeful.
I think this is also an exciting time for Eastern Europe. Ukraine and Estonia gained independence shortly after I was born. Both countries have had some growing pains, but I think these countries- both some of the first in Europe to see the sunlight every morning- have bright futures. It's time for us to grow up together. :)
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