Day 8

Tuesday, Day 8

Here’s the thing about Baltic amber. Let me explain the thing. The thing is that it’s all over the Baltic countries, and Ukraine is not one of them. So, finding amber here has been a challenge. Luckily, we are surrounded by jewelry stores. Unfortunately, they are all pretty much lost causes. So most of the day was devoted to finding the aforementioned amber in the proper shape and size.

We first started out having breakfast at a new place, which was so much better than our usual spot (aka, no loud techno music and croissants!!) hurray. The eggs here are phenomenal, amazing to eat eggs from chickens that are actually on farms. We decided to have a day to do some shopping and exploring for little things we wanted to get and last things we wanted to see.

We went over to Dad’s elementary school, which was really cute. There was another school we passed on the way from his old apt to the school he went to, and I asked why he didn’t go to the closer school, and he said it was for gifted children only. (Poor Dad, not gifted enough.) It’s under renovation now, but there was an open door so we got to see the yard where he played, the fence he sat on, etc. Kind of cool, but he didn’t dwell on it much.

We then went to the post office again and the bazaar, which was awesome. Such a fun amazing thing (much like Eastern Market in DC, but maybe 6 times as big, at least in the food and flower department.) We saw berries and melons that I’ve never seen before, and more kielbasa and cheese (Brinza) than you could ever imagine.

There were loads of cheap shoes, but Dad was not willing to indulge my need to shoe shop. I’m having withdrawals. Plus I can nearly see the pavement through these flip flops. And, if I can quasi-whine for one moment, my ankle is still so fat it’s just funny now. And, honestly, it doesn’t even hurt but has gone sort of numb, which I took to be a good sign but Dad pointed out that maybe losing the feeling in one’s extremities is perhaps taking a turn for the worse. But now I stomp on it and watch it grow, sort of like a chia pet.

We bought an alphabet book for me! It’s for, you know, five year old Russian children learning how to write and spell, but I’m so excited about it. I’m learning to read all over again, and this time I can actually appreciate the process. I keep sounding out words and probably sound really special (I can tell Dad is fighting his embarrassment, good man) and I’m so thrilled. Love reading!

Oh, and we also got a giant Odessa map that I want to frame and hang in my Arizona apt. We started to search for amber (unsuccessfully, and already getting tired) when we returned to drink water in the apartment since we were super dehydrated. We called Senya (Boris’ brother) and he let us know that he was home and that we should come on over. He, supposedly, was only a few blocks from our apartment so we bought a bottle of wine at the grocery and started out. We soon realized that it was not a few blocks away – it was more like two miles.

It was about 90 degrees, 2 pm, and neither of us were particularly happy campers. (The numbers on the buildings here move very slowly. You can walk an entire city block and only move a few numbers. So when we came out on the right street at 70 and need 25, we knew we were in trouble.) We got there and sat down, and noticed his apartment was much like Olga’s, which is to say, beautiful high and decorative ceilings, but monochromatic shades of brown otherwise.

Senya and his wife immediately cracked open the red wine, which neither of us expected, so now we’re sweating in an apartment with no AC and drinking red wine and politely eating the chocolates in front of us on empty stomachs. We had a really good time actually; visiting these strange and distant people seems too impossible to imagine at first, then there’s that weird awkward moment of, oh crap, I’m in your living room, do you even know my name? And then we’re all laughing and talking like it is nothing.

Dad explained his situation in the states when he first got there, which either I didn’t know or had forgotten: he got a job 18 days after arriving in the US, thanks to his uncle, who we called Pop. He worked as a toolmaker, and didn’t need English at all (though he did have to adjust to taking three different buses to go about 15 miles in Connecticut) because he was working only with his hands, and then the company closed two weeks later. He was interviewed (with Pop as interpreter) for an engineering job, one that actually paid less than his tool making job, 8 bucks an hour. He turned to Pop, mid-interview, and asked in Russian “why do I want this job that pays less?” and Pop turned to the employer and said, “He loves the job; he’ll take it.”

I had to come to Odessa to get this story. Senya said later to my dad, “you know, you really haven’t changed.” Dad said that was very nice to hear.

Leaving, and armed with more amber suggestions from the family (and I got to meet Senya’s daughter, 24 years old, only speaking Russian, and we both sat and had our conversations translated by our fathers) we dragged our tipsy, aching asses back into the heat.

We decided to forgo lunch for amber hunt, plus it was already 4 pm. We found a place with all this real fur and leather for ridiculously cheap, but again, Dad would not let me shop, and I’m starting to think he’s fishing for a fight.

(Weird, on the way there, I saw some graffiti I recognized from another walk, and it said “Fuck NATO”. Now, after talking about Georgia so much, I know Ukraine is a part of NATO, so why the graffiti, I asked Dad. Russians, apparently, wrote this. Another line: “NATO, we don’t need you.”)

So we made our way back to the center of the city, and found this tiny hole in the wall where there was amber aplenty. Thank goodness. I bought a ring for myself, a giant stone, Rachel style, for practically nothing. By this point, we were hungry and sunburned and possibly seconds from strangling each other, so we stopped and had dinner and beer and lots of water before heading back to our apartment.

(On the menu, a joke: “Are you Jewish?” surveyed one Odessa man. The answers: No, 10%. Almost, 10.4%. Da, 34%, and “Why do you ask?” 45.6%. This is classic Odessa humor, answering a question with a question.) We ordered and the waitress said to Dad, “It’ll take a while, we’re not a McDonalds” in Russian, what a bitch.

I fed a cat some of my dinner (I’m a sucker) and he tried to climb my chair. We were going to go on a tour of Odessa as related to Jewish history, but this entailed renting a car and Dad translating everything the guide was saying, and after getting so many tours and history lessons by the people we’ve hung out with here, we decided it wasn’t necessary after all.

Dad went outside to use a pay phone to call up our guide and cancel our tour, and I sat in the park and answered a few more emails in the dusk, the wild dogs reclining at my feet, the park warm but finally cooling after a hot day. Just gorgeous.

Tomorrow, instead of the tour (sorry, Jewish Studies Dept.) we’re going to Otrada, Dad’s favorite beach in Odessa. Then dinner with Sasha and Valia. Hopefully, Thursday, horseback riding with the other Sasha, which got shuffled around for the dacha, etc. We’re sitting and drinking Baltika (Brick-goers will remember my fondness, and sadly no, it is not the elusive Baltika 8, but it’s about a dollar here!) and eating those chocolate unidentifiable thingies I picked out in the supermarket, which are completely amazing. I’ll switch back to cheese (“sir” with the damn rolled “r”) in a moment.

And now, a dedication to Kvas. In Russian, the Cyrillic looks like KVAC, and I have a picture of me drinking it in a plastic cup in the street (thanks, Dad) that I’ll have to make available to everyone. This is, undoubtedly, the most amazing beverage of all time.

It’s not in the states, and Dad and I have a plan to figure out how to brew it and market it to Americans, who are so addicted to both cola and beer that we’d be rich within seconds (Kvas is a surprisingly pleasant blend of the two, I promise.) Its not too sweet, not too bitter, and not at all like a Snakebite or hard cider. If beer could taste like non-obnoxious soda, it would be Kvas. We bought three litres for about a dollar. We bought the cup on the street from a little babushka with a keg on the side of the road.

I miss my glasses so much. Did I write already that I left them in the states? I spend my evenings and early mornings blind and squinting at a book or the computer. I brought the case (genius) but the glasses weren’t inside it (typical). Oh, and baby bird is fine.

Words:
corn: cucuruzu (love it!)
come to me: poidi suda
owl: sava
amber: yentari
necklace: boussi
alphabet: azbuka
egg: yaitso
leg: noshka