A trip on the wild side...

A few words about my trip to Kyiv last week… for starters, Kyiv is a beautiful city, full of grand boulevards, imposing buildings, and onion-domed churches.

After entering the airport and being greeted by questionable taxi drivers that were out to make a big buck, I wasn’t quite what to expect. We actually decided upon taking an ‘unofficial’ taxi. Well, I should say it was an unmarked car with tinted windows, but the price was right (20 USD). Not often do I follow a guy who says quietly behind my back, “lady, follow me”, but together with Beth, we somehow decided to follow and take this driver up on his offer to take us to Hotel Ukraine. Outside the airport doors, I realized the adventure was only beginning. To the right of the entrance/exit stood a group of Hasidic Jews who had arrived to celebrate Jewish New Year at the grave of their spiritual leader, Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav. We passed this group of men with long curls and dressed in black with top hats and made our way to the car. Our driver seemed to take after the famous German Formula One star, Michael Schumacher. For some reason, we were the fastest car on the road. Funny how that works sometimes! He also had figured out some unorthodox ways of getting to downtown Kyiv. This caused my colleague Beth some consternation, but I somehow sat back and let the driver do his driving. We were in Ukraine, and this was pretty much the Wild West for us.

Our drive to the city center took us through a ‘suburb’ or two (if you can call it that). We passed row after row of ugly socialist apartment blocks, pretty similar to what I first saw in Wroclaw, Poland when I was an exchange student in 1993, but these blocks seemed even more immense and went on forever. Seeing these blocks, feeling pretty depressed at the sight, I became very, very grateful for the blessing of my family home, backyard, and woods. Also, looking out the car window, I noticed old cars pulling crates filled with potatoes on the back. The differences between the capital city and the rural outlying districts seemed pretty stark to say the least.

On the whole, I was very impressed by the quality of Kyiv’s infrastructure. The city had highways free of potholes and we were able to get to the city in relative ease. Once at our hotel, a grand monument of former Soviet hotels perched on a hill above Maidan Independence Square where protesters in October 2004 created a ‘tent city’ in support of Victor Yuschenko, the now President of Ukraine, we were greeted by a HUGE outdoor concert. There were literally thousands of people running around with alcoholic beverages and dancing the night away. The site was admittedly overwhelming, but we soon warmed up to the party environment and enjoyed a few pop performances before taking a stroll. One of the highlights of Sunday night was seeing the 2004 Eurovision winner Ruslana perform her hit, “Wild Dances”. I’d say she’s pretty much the Ukrainian version of Shakira.

Ukraine was really quite a fascinating place. On the one hand, there were beautiful people (especially long-legged, blond-haired women) out and about in 60s retro fashion, a lot of fancy cafes and high end shopping, but on the other hand, there were many elderly women selling their humble wares on random street corners. Of course, there were also security guards at every establishment, whether at a restaurant, cafeteria, café, hotel, or store. There was always a man in a suit paying attention to whatever was happening. And, there were seemingly hundreds of men parked in cars with tinted windows on sidewalks, waiting for Ukrainian businessmen and politicians to finish their business.

Our hotel was quite an experience in itself. Get this: on every floor stood a desk with a woman who controlled room keys. Supposedly, back in the day this function was performed by the KGB. In addition to controlling access to guest rooms, these individuals also helped procure women for party officials and the like. (This is according to my Hungarian colleague). In my opinion there was absolutely no need for this job; can’t you pick up your key at the main desk when you check in? But, a job is important that is for sure. Probably one of the most disturbing sites was the presence of prostitutes in our hotel lobby every night. It seemed to be accepted practice. We also had police in the lobby keeping watch. The women simply sat on the lobby couches, drinking vodka and waiting to be approached. It was eye-opening for sure.

In these short two plus days, I only scratched the surface of Kyiv. If at all possible, I’d definitely like to go back and do some further exploration. In terms of tourist sites, we only got to visit the Sofia of Kyiv, a large church and monastery modeled after Istanbul’s Sofia, the outside of the Kyiv Dynamo Soccer Stadium (where the famous player Shevchenko started out), and had a look at the colossal Monument to the Motherland commemorating WW II (a woman probably twice the size of our Statue of Liberty – at least that’s the feeling she gave me; she could have been even larger if you can imagine) from our taxi window on our drive to the airport upon leaving. So, if anyone wants to join me for a Ukrainian adventure let me know. There’s always Odessa and boats rides to be had, too!

Maidan Square (Independence Square) in Kyiv, Ukraine

Here I am near Pechersk Gate in downtown Kyiv. You might wonder - why Kyiv? Well, Kyiv is Ukrainian and Kiev is Russian and English. And, if you know me, you know I'll support the national language :)

Jordana's Visit to Prague

A few weeks have already passed, but my roommate Jordana from DC came to visit me in early September after she finished touring Italy with her cousins and attending a wedding.

It was a very sweet, but much too fast visit. During these 4 or so days together, we saw the Barber of Seville as well as a rather risque Black Light Theatre, which is very interpretive, but without the use of language. I have to say that Walt Disney, Epcot Center, and Warner Brothers have heavily influenced the way I experience new places in Europe and cultural events. So you know what I mean… I REALLY enjoyed the Opera, especially since I knew the music and it was a comedy. But, the reason I know the Barber of Seville is because I first came to know the Rabbit of Seville, which happens to go down as one of my all-time favorite cartoons. I admit that the opening sequence of the Opera I was thinking of Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fud. I really had to get a hold of myself, which I eventually did, but I enjoyed my finger tapping and memories of Bugs dressed up as a bride and Bugs massaging Elmer Fud’s bald head.

You can really tire yourself out walking around Prague. Jordana and I are living proof. I had hopes of taking a day trip on Saturday out of town, but on Friday night we realized we were completely exhausted from trapsing around town in the cool weather. So, we did what I love most on Saturday morning… we ate brunch at this place called Radost, which has some of the best breakfast food I have ever had. While a lot of food here in Prague is just mediocre (Remember I speak as someone who lived in New York City and Philadelphia), Radost brunch is phenomenal. With Jordana I had the “Greek God” omelet, which was filled with feta cheese, tomatoes, spinach, mushrooms, and sourcream and was served with a piece of whole grain bread. On a separate visit I had a huge pair of waffles with loads of fresh fruit (pineapple, blueberries, grapes), topped with blueberry sauce and whipped cream. Oh, and the coffee is deep, full bodied, and rich. Can you tell I like breakfast?

Of course, Sunday was a sad occasion when I had to say goodbye to Jordana. It was so good to have a roommate again and to have the opportunity to learn even more about Filipinos and how she has distant relatives basically everywhere. :) 

"So, is like life in America as crazy as it is in HBO's 'BIG LOVE'?" - Just one question I got lobbed from a Brit

What a week it has been! Full of meetings, running here and there. Some of you have asked how my Czech is progressing. Well, I hate to say this, but it's been on hold ever since work got busier and I had my first visitor, Jordana (my roomie from Arlington). But, I try to practice here and there, and I still have my hand in German. Um, I'll refrain from telling you what programs I have watched on SAT TV in German (of course, it's all in the name of learning and bettering my command of the language!), but I'll admit, some nights I turn on the TV and just want some mindless entertainment. There is certainly plenty of that!

Actually, dwelling a bit further on TV, I happened to surf through the channels on Monday after I returned from attending a solemn but hopeful "Missa Ecumenica" a musical and audio-visual commemoration of September 11 and victims of terrorism at the famous Municipal House's Smetana Concert Hall... What I found on the national Czech 2 station rather disturbed me. They were broadcasting Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11. The timing of the film on national Czech television was totally out of place in my opinion. I don't consider myself a fanatical person; I'm willing to listen to an argument and consider it for what it's worth, but I found running this movie with its very clear agenda distasteful and wrong on the fifth anniversary of this tragic event. Show the movie some other week, but not on September 11th!

A few weeks ago I also happened to turn the TV on while doing the dishes and came upon a HORRIBLE American movie, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, or something of the like. The movie was shown in the original language, which was mostly curse words. I bring this up because I'm very concerned about America's image abroad, and I have to tell you this type of American cultural export definitely doesn't help. Since I've been here I've had numerous inquiries about different films and HBO series, whether or not life in the United States is like it is portrayed on TV or the screen. I'm so glad I have the opportunity to allow people to get to know an American that does not hale from the zipcode 90210. These simple interactions go to show me the great value and need for cultural exchange programs and an engaging public diplomacy.

If you are interested in the topic of U.S. public diplomacy, I urge you to take a look at a very thought provoking piece, "Now Showing the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Americans: Exporting the Wrong Picture" by Martha Bayles in the August 28, 2005 The Washington Post. Ms. Bayles is currently writing a book on U.S. public diplomacy. In her Post piece, Ms. Bayles definitely raises many concerning points:

"American popular culture is no longer a beacon of freedom to huddled masses in closed societies. Instead, it's a glut on the market and, absent any countervailing cultural diplomacy, our de facto ambassador to the world. The solution to this problem is far from clear. Censorship is not the answer, because even if it were technologically possible to censor our cultural exports, it would not be politic. The United States must affirm the crucial importance of free speech in a world that has serious doubts about it, and the best way to do this is to show that freedom is self-correcting -- that Americans have not only liberty but also a civilization worthy of liberty." (Bayles, Sunday, August 28, 2005; Page B01, The Washington Post)

To see the entire article, go to: www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/08/27/AR2005082700034.html

Just some food for thought! And, yes, my effort to make you all informed citizens!

Well, I'm off to Kyiv on Sunday afternoon for short business trip. I look forward to updating you my trip further east!

Best, Christine

Remembering September 11

It has been five years since the day hijackers crashed planes into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. Five years have passed, and yet I still remember as if it were yesterday the amazing blue sky and piercing rays of sun the morning of September 11. I remember the police yelling behind me and to my side to get out of the way. I remember the burning hole, growing larger, engulfing, and falling debris after the first plane hit, thinking I was standing in a war zone. I remember the arrival of fire trucks and my childlike hope that somehow the firemen on their ladders with their water hoses would squelch the fire. I remember the heap of ash and debris and the smell of soot in the air for months afterwards. I remember.

I am not speaking as someone who directly knew or lost a loved one in the World Trade Center that awful day. But, I do speak as someone who was there; someone who saw the fiery hole after the first Tower was hit; someone who shook with fear and anger in the days that followed. For me September 11 is a stark reminder of the very real presence of evil in this world, of the fragility of life, that we should take no day for granted. And, it is a lesson of sustaining faith and hope in the midst of tragedy, disaster, and injustice.

There’s so much to say about that day. Part of me deep down somehow believes that if I could only recreate this day in perfect detail, as if I were God, I could return this world to life as I previously knew it. And maybe that is why it has taken me so long to mark that day in words, because I know that once I do put the last word to paper, those men and women who lost someone in the Towers or the planes will go on missing their husbands, fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, wives, significant other, friends, and loved ones, and we will still turn on the news every morning to yet another story of suicide bombings.

What I stared in the face on September 11, 2001 was evil, plain and simple. But what was reinforced after this horrendous course of events was the exact opposite: love, hope, and a heavenly longing for a place where there will be no more tears, no more death and no more decay.

I miss New York every September. My heart aches as I think of friends. I remember the look on their faces, how we tried to encourage and support each other every step of the way. I remember the surreal feeling of downtown Manhattan. I remember reconnecting (after 8 years) with my old friend from high school Dan Burchill on a street corner in the high 20s on my walk north. I remember taking a ferry with Jackie later that day, bypassing a line of hundreds of people, and being hosed down by firemen and EMTs in Hoboken upon our arrival. I remember hug upon hug after we finally returned to work. I remember the warm embrace of the maintenance man from El Salvador. I remember meeting a young woman from Cantor Fitzgerald who called in sick to work that day (her offices were on the top floors); one of maybe two team members alive, she was searching for answers, struggling to make sense of her life. I remember and I hope.

From time to time I still wonder why I was there, up close. Why I saw the things I did. It has been five whole years since that day and we can’t turn back the clock. At times I am so very angry. There will be more Towers to fall in my life, in our lives. And, that is why I endeavor to set my mind and heart on what is eternal, that which will never perish or give way. This is the enduring lesson of September 11th.

Clouds over Prague - This was My August

Friends, Family, and Esteemed Guests,

Ever gradually I have begun to create a photo gallery of some of my favorites at flickr.com. If you're curious, please drop by:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/73459909@N00/

Enjoy! Christine

Martin, Minsk, and Kyrgyz Cognac

Yes, we all have our secret crushes. NO, mine is not Martin Crouch. Not by a long shot! This is the product of my brother’s wicked sense of humor. Here I am in Prague, admiring sunglass advertisements with David Beckham, walking around town in a bit of a glow following my recent, yet disappointing viewings of the England side during the World Cup. When Mark set out for South Africa by way of England, I asked if he’d just sent me a postcard or something of Becks. And, this is what I received! Yes, Mark and I had emailed back and forth a few times during the Cup, and I did make a few disparaging remarks about Mr. Crouch, but little did I think I’d get a nice-sized poster with his well, ‘interesting’ face on it. But, I do have to appreciate my dear brother’s sense of humor. It is always a joy to be remembered on one’s birthday, and it is especially nice to receive a gift with a special meaning and thought attached to it. I have to admit that I’m a poor gift giver; I’m usually overwhelmed by indecision. I should have learned a lesson long ago from some friends in Germany who simply buy presents for people as they find them, and not necessarily only before a birthday or the like. That sounds pretty reasonable to me.

Today was full of many firsts. Through the course of lunch, and later dinner and drinks I made my first friend from the country known as the last dictatorship of Europe. She related some rather heartfelt stories about life in Minsk, conveying how depressing life is there. She comes from a country, which if it’s not careful is in danger of losing its national identity for that of its neighbor Russia. There is no higher education in her mother tongue, Belarusian. National symbols are being stamped out and the language is undergoing ‘reform’, coming closer to Russian. But this is only one part of the story. Besides the trampling of national identity and language, there is the lack of freedom of expression and the encroachment of the state in private lives. And, there is the president who maintains the pipe dream of becoming president of Russia, cozying up to his Big Brother neighbor, even so far as to push for a state union. Actually, this reminds me of my Canadian friend Tyson from good ole Dining Services at Penn’s Hill House who shared with me one day over lunch his desire for the U.S. to annex Canada so that he could become president of the United States one day.

While it was no Orange Revolution “tent city” in Minsk, what happened with several hundred protestors in March of this year after the presidential election (I think Lukashenka ‘won’ with 86% or something like that) was truly monumental. These men and women braved freezing cold temperatures round the clock for four days until police broke up the crowd and began to arrest and imprison people. Recently, several protesters received prison sentences of 2-3 years for their activities. In short, I am immensely humbled by these activists and their desire for freedom, liberty, and justice.

Besides receiving a first hand account of life in Belarus, I also tasted my first Kyrgyz cognac. All this time I thought the French and Armenians were the main purveyors of this spirit. Well, I have to tell you this cognac from Bishkek was very smooth, warm and overall quite lovely. I have yet to try any Armenian, but the Remy St. Martin I sampled several years back from my friend Florence (a fellow Bosch tutor in Frankfurt Oder) whose grandparents contribute grapes to the production was just too much for me. Perhaps, the Kyrgyz variety is for a lightweight like me, but I would really recommend it.

Oh, by the way, Mom, I might just put Poland's neighbor to the right on my travel agenda :)