Day 7

Monday, Day 7

This morning, we awoke to find that our pigeon has had a baby! Happy birthday, you little ugly gray thing! We thought it was earlier than it was because it was actually drizzling and chilly! (OK, I interrupt myself to say that Dad just made a gesture towards to the TV and said “we must capture the sounds of the time” before turning it on. OK Dad.

Note, later: we are watching a very old dubbed over Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. But he just read this over my shoulder and promptly changed the channel.)

So we decided to go to this restaurant where the service was utter crap (but they had a breakfast menu) because it was closer to our apt, and then we both got really pissed an impatient because the service sucked again. But the food was awesome. I had Leneeveyeh Vareaneekee, which is really doughy and rich and terrible for you, and you dip it in honey and then feel yourself start to get diabetes but it’s worth it.

They bragged about wireless availability in the window, (our justification for going back) and after being at the dacha for two days, we missed our email, but then it didn’t work and that only made us crankier. So we trekked back to the apt in the rain and took a bus to meet Boris to go to my grandfather’s cemetery as we had planned for this morning.

We could have gone with Valia, in her car, which would have been very easy and convenient and comfortable, but Boris has been making sure that Dad’s father’s grave is looked after and cleaned (I didn’t understand this until we got there, bc this is very different from cemetery care in the states) so it felt much more appropriate to go with him. Plus he knew him, unlike Valia, I believe.

So we caught the bus to a corner, and waited there for a while, and then realized we were on the wrong corner, and found Boris somewhere else. I think we are cursed to look like flakes around Boris, poor guy. So then we walked to a different stop and got on a different bus, out of the city. The sun came out and it got hot. We got to the cemetery, which had all these women selling flowers (mostly fake) outside of it, which seemed weird. Especially since this was an all Jewish cemetery and it is not the tradition to use flowers on graves.

As soon as we were inside I understood this cemetery was different from any I had ever been to. It was really big and had a map at the entrance, and you literally had to use the map to figure out where to go, and the path was very very long, and spread far right and left. There were about 5 crazy looking dogs at the entrance, each sleeping on a different grave. Dad and Boris knew which way to go, so we headed out.

It was pretty deep into the cemetery, which I have a picture of, but you would have to say it was essentially forest. Each grave has a fence around it, very clear markings of territory. But, like American cemeteries, graves are right next to each other, so its very hard to walk between. Sometimes the path between is less than one foot. There is a bigger more general path that branches off, and it costs much more to buy a plot there.

Ours is deep somewhere in the back to the left, and it was very well maintained, to my father’s relief. It was incredible to see the disrepair of the grave on either side of it though, very sad and unexpected for me. Some of the stone had cracked (there’s like a marble/stone floor, for each plot) and some were completely invisible because of ivy and other growth. Others were just buried in tree branches and fallen leaves. This is no rolling grassy hill like in the states. If you don’t come and take care of it, no one will. Now I understand.

I thought this would be a very emotional thing for my father, but then I came to realize (the date on the headstone is what hit me) that this has been a death he has been dealing with for nearly 40 years now. It is hard to remember that my father lost his father at such a young age. All he said about it today was, “I was in the army” which is especially sad because he definitely didn’t want to be in the USSR’s army.

He didn’t want another picture with the grave, he said he likes remembering the one of him there with his mother and didn’t want to replace it. It was most striking to me that my grandmother is buried on the other side of the Atlantic from her husband. Perhaps she always thought about that since she came to the US, but how would we know? Such a sad thing.

After a long, hot bus ride later, Boris walked us to a synagogue in the heart of the city. Dad hadn’t remembered a synagogue here, and that’s because it used to be a building for the university. It’s actually really beautiful and looks very well cared for, but you’d never know it was a synagogue except for the orthodox restaurant in front of it, which is much more prominent than anything related to worship. I wonder if this relates to any sentiment here in the town still.

We went home to grab the computer and take it to the place where we first had dinner here; it was nice to check email. The news about Georgia hit over the weekend, and at the dacha, completely cut off from society, even we had not heard much about it. There is no big fear here that Russia would want to attack Ukraine, too, but Georgia is like Ukraine’s brother, and though their army isn’t much, they have lots of natural resources and oil that of course Russia wants. Almost everything in the news here is about how Ukraine would support Georgia in a war because they are neighbors. Sadly, the common belief here is that Georgia doesn’t stand a chance.

They are not shy about showing footage of dead bodies. It’s a few hours away, but its really sad and scary. The thing that’s bothering people here is that the Ukrainian boats in the Black Sea are right near the Russian boats. Ukraine is quick to say they disagree with Russia right now, but want to maintain neutrality to protect the port. A Russian news report came on just now as I type this: amazing perspective. They are only reporting that Russians caught Georgian’s spying on them and are taking action against them for it. Russia also politely reminded Ukraine that Sevastopol is a Russian port (though it is considered to be on Ukrainian land.)

The other big news is a flood that really damaged western Ukraine, which we knew about because one of the few roads in the country by the dacha was completely impassable, and there was tremendous traffic and cars driving off the road in order to pass in the dirt shoulders, going around the standing cars on the pavement.

OK. So after lunch we went around the city and took a lot of pictures of things we have been passing and liking but not making pictures of. TAKING pictures. Ag!

We walked the Potemkin steps this time (with ice cream) and it was very crowded with tourists, Primorsky (trans: Near Sea) Blvd. Lions are very big here, they have always been here and are kind of a staple of Odessa (statues, not the real thing). There are a lot of new and rather stupid looking statues around Odessa that tourists love to pose with, and this annoys Dad and makes me laugh. Instead I posed with Richelieu and the lions.

We walked across the mother-in-law bridge, and we had never noticed before that all the little bars have big locks on them, and all the locks have names engraved, and dates; we’re assuming wedding dates. Some have really sweet messages like, “my heart is in your hands,” and “we have love, you can stick the rest up your ass” and other translations I am thankful Dad shared with me. (What happens to these locks if they divorce, we wonder.)

We walked a lot today, and then went to the supermarket to buy more food for our mini-breakfasts and some stuff to go with our tortellini. (I have been trying to sound out the Russian words now, especially the ones I know, when I can remember enough Cyrillic letters. But it takes me so long to say one word; I’m like a bumbling 5 year old going letter by letter.) We figured out how to light the stove (matches) and I offered to make dinner since zavtruk is mostly Dad’s domain; aka, he slices cheese and bread.

But Dad, with perhaps more justification than I would willingly admit, hovered over me like I was going to burn the place down, and I finally had to remind him that I have my very own kitchen in Arizona and no one’s died yet so let me boil freaking water on the stove. Having no butter, salt, or pepper, we put flavored cream cheese on the pasta and it was really delicious and I highly recommend it.

We ended up watching “From Russia with Love” in dubbed Russian. Still working our connections to get into the opera house. Penciling people in for the rest of our week. Interesting thing that just happened: one of Dad’s contacts has been skirting his calls, we thought, and he actually is relatively peeved that he didn’t hear from Dad for so long and now he wants to meet up. Tricky.

Words:
Awesome drink: kvas
garden: saad
pigeon: goloobe
cemetery: cladbesheh
bus: aftoboos
I know: ya znahyoo
map: carta
fool: durak
queen: dama
jack: valyet
king: coroll
ace: toose
witch: vyeddma
grain: psheneetsa