The first thing I noticed as I opened this notebook end of sentence to do some journaling is the fact that the red margins are located on the right side of the page! That’s really annoying. My brain doesn’t like it, especially since I feel compelled to write over the red line and that makes my sense of orderliness squirm! Hahaha. It’s OK. I’ll get over it.
I arrived at the university just a few minutes past 11:00 AM, accompanied by Krystina and her friend Ola. That three of us to the crowded and smelly bus from the Center to get here, although surprisingly eat seem to bother my two ‘escorts’ more than me. Hehehe. I was told about the horrors of taking bus from Jess and Jen, so I knew what to expect. It was nothing unlike taking the bus in Mexico City, but then again, the last time I did that was many years ago, I never really had much need for it since my parents owned a car.
So here I am, sitting on a bench in front of the pedagogical university at Ternopil, waiting for Jess and Jen to go on our first visit together to the Internat. They’re supposed to be here at noon, but I hope they are early so that I can go with them I thought to buy something to supplement my lunch, since all I have packed is a bottle of water and 6 baked mini-buns (called ‘peroges’), some filled with mashed potatoes and some with jam. We have been advised NOT to eat the food at the internat, since their cooking practices are not very hygienic. Once the girls finish eating, all the left-overs are compiled together and thrown back into the pot, only to be served again on the next meal. The girls, of course, are used to each other’s germs, haha, but for us this would most likely send us on a trip straight to a week of diarrhoea, something we want to avoid at all costs, needless to say!!
As I sit here, I continue to be amazed at the way people dress here. It is as if everyone was about to walk down a cat-walk. At least this is true for most women. I have never seen so many heels and stilettos outside of a fancy club on a Friday night. They all sport very trendy tops and bottoms as well, although some people just don’t know when to draw the line, hahaha. There was one girl walking around in metallic, electric blue jeans. Point made? OK. I must look very homely to everyone here wearing my comfy flats, black pants and a fusia vi-neck :P What I have the hardest thing understanding, though, is how these girls manage to walk in their suicide 10-inch stilettos up and down the pebble-&-crack-ridden sidewalks, which to me seem like death traps in the best of cases, even on my flat shoes. It must really be an art! Now, just so it doesn’t sound like I am just criticising, I admit everyone looks very nice all the time, which is nice.
On a different topic, I am starting to pick up some Ukrainian words, but I still feel horribly illiterate. Krystina and Ola, as well as Orest’s aunt, were laughing at the way I pronounce “diakuyu” (Thank you), but I think I know what they are laughing at, and I think I know how to say it correctly now, hehe. I can’t wait for my lessons to begin on Tuesday so that I can stop putting my foot in my mouth! Hahaha.
Now, time for some more randomness… I stopped writing for a few minutes to watch people, and in comes this man wearing an orange work vest (probably a janitor or gardener), carrying a HUGE sickle. Yes, I said sickle. Like the one the Grim Reaper carries. I have never seen one of those in real life before, but this is the most random place to see one… kind of scary really.
I hope I don’t sound superficial when I say this, but another interesting person walked by whose appearance called my attention. It was a lady of roughly 50-60 years wearing an olive-coloured suit, whose hair was died bright orange. That is actually a very common, yet very ‘interesting’ feature that can be seen around here. Women like to due their hair in the most unnatural rendition of what could have been somewhat naturally-occurring colours. That is to say, you won’t see a woman with blue hair, but you will see TONS of women with bright red, burgundy, orange, rust, and blonde hair. But when I say red, I mean Tootsie-Pop red (if you don’t know what a Tootsie-Pop is, you either had no childhood, or grew up outside
And yet another random thought… Here they call me “Myrah”. Not “Miriam”, not “Miri”, not even “Maryu”, but “Myrah”. I’m not sure why, but I think Myrowslav Tataryn told them that was my name. It is probably just easier for them to pronounce it this way, according to the phonetics of the Ukrainian language. It used to get under my skin (those of you who know me know I am slightly picky about my name, haha), but I have learned some humility and now I have grown accustomed to it :P
So that is it for my random ramblings of the day.
NOW, like I promised in my last post, it is time to tell you about the Internat… Day 1…
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