The weather has begun to break - warmish and sunny, the mud slowly drying and children, birds, street animals of all ilk and the babushkas are beginning to come more alive. I keep hearing how different the country is in the summer and I’m beginning to believe it. Indoor space is at such a premium here, so when the weather is nice, people break free to enjoy time outdoors.

I’m just about at one month in-country. Language is progressing, though slower than I’d like, but then sometimes I feel good that I can put together a slow sentence at all, considering that this is a completely new and not particularly easy language. I’m also trying hard to speak with people even if I don’t know all the vocabulary that I need - which is most of the time… :-D

Our cluster is beginning our project and we are working out finding translation help and also setting up meetings with the Unemployment Center that we’ll work with. The center has asked for help to set up a training workshop and we’re going to find out what kind of training and then work to teach their staff to do the training so that they could continue after we leave in 2 months or so.

It’s funny because in some ways three months seems like such a long time for training, but I know it’s precious little, both for our internship and also studying language. I asked my LCF yesterday if I could get more work and also for tips on working outside of class. I’m so motivated right now to study Russian and really want to take advantage of having such a good teacher and also these intensive classes. She was super responsive and already has made some changes to our class to accommodate my request and I’ve spent some hours organizing grammar and vocab to do self study.

Yesterday, after class Ira and I planned to go for a walk. I came back to their apartment, and changed into “sporty” clothes, as Ira put it. She got dolled up as usual, which is the norm here and what I’m beginning to do as well. “Dolled up” means putting on makeup, which varies from a subtle, put-together look to full-on “I’m using every product Mary Kay creates” faces, having one’s hair at least be kempt if not styled and wearing pressed, clean clothes and shined shoes. Ira falls in the former category and always looks and smells nice before leaving the house.

However, I looked “sporty” and didn’t have on my long, black wool coat that fits in so well here, and for the first time since I arrived, really felt out of place and that people were looking at me. It was interesting and made me realize how little of that I’ve experienced here, especially contrasted with Costa Rica, where I was constantly being pointed at, out, etc. I guess that’s the advantage to being white in a homogeneous, white society. I understand that volunteers of different ethnicities, but particularly African Americans, can experience much prejudice and hassle in Ukraine.

When we returned from our turn around town and the nice park in town, the neighbor babushka sitting at the entrance to the building stopped Ira and I. Between my lack of understanding and her eating those ubiquitous, black sunflower seeds, I got the words “American” and “militia” (which is what they call the local police). After we got into the apartment, I asked Ira what babushka had said. Apparently, some police officers had come by the apartment to investigate the American living here.

We met with the mayor, head of the city militia and several city officials on Monday and all of us have been registered with the city militia, per custom and law for foreigners. Apparently, police officers visited all of the volunteer’s home stay apartments yesterday. Only one of us was home and he said they were quite nice, but didn’t speak English of course and he didn’t understand their Russian, so the interview was brief. He found out from his neighbor that they interviewed the neighbor and asked lots of questions, some of which were making sure he was being taken care of by the family.

It is difficult to understand from an American perspective why the police might concern themselves with such a trifle as Peace Corps volunteers living among them, but I think some of it comes from a mentality that goes back to Soviet times. In discussing this with our LCF, we found out that many Ukrainians sort of assume their phone could be tapped, as so many were before during Soviet times. As such they don’t discuss anything sensitive at all, such as money, being away from their apartment for a vacation, etc.

In any case (Mom - this is for you!) the visit poses no danger and not even an annoyance. The two LCF’s in Brovary with us are meeting again with the militia to clear up any questions they have.

This Sunday, Ira and I are going to see Swan Lake at the National Theater. It should be lovely. I’m excited for an outing! I’m going to try to arrange a trip soon with a friend to stay overnight in Kyiv and just have a day and a half of non-home stay time. Just a few hours. That or I really could use an afternoon outdoors away from cars and concrete. I’ll have to figure out easy ways to accomplish this when I live in Kyiv!

21 mar 03
Today is the Academy Awards, or at least will be when it’s nighttime in CA. We’ll see them tomorrow and I’m excited for that…

Today was full of small excitements and excursions. First of all, I finally felt good enough to go to the gym. I went by myself and it was a good realization that I know so little Russian. There were of course nice Ukrainians who spoke decent English who showed me around and I got a good workout. The gym is in a brick building and the interior is quite nice, exposed brick and lots of windows. There was a serious aerobics class going on that I got the schedule for, so that will be fun to try. I think if I go regularly and try to talk to people, I’ll meet some of them and practice Russian.

I laugh to think about how excited I was to go to the gym and also for my next outing, shopping w/ Ira. After the gym, I showered, dressed and put on the makeup I’m accustoming myself to putting on before leaving the house. It’s not a lot, but certainly more than I would wear on a regular basis in Boulder…

We first went to Spar, the large, new supermarket that has Brovary abuzz. Spar even is putting out a weekly circular, a new idea here. Spar is a large store, with wide aisles and lots of selection. There’s another supermarket named Forum about 200 metres from Spar, and I actually prefer it. The prices are almost the same and both stores have second floors devoted to small shops w/ cosmetics, clothing, toy guns and interesting chatchkas, such as figurines of naked ladies and fish.

Which leads me to my first digression today, the prevalence of nekkid ladies. The gym had a poster of a sweaty, topless girl, titled, “Absolute Fitness.” Some of the tabloid newspapers have topless babes and Ukrainian Cosmo this month had a pictorial of men’s and women’s heads and unclothed bodies, with a quiz to see if one could match the head w/ the body. Torsos and tushes only, not full frontal.

I don’t really have anything to say besides that observation. I am unused to so much nudity, but it doesn’t particularly bother me. The violence in the Russian soap operas and the reality TV shows does upset me, but not the skin.

Back to the outings of the day – I was really sort of scarily excited to go shopping with Ira, in particular to the bazaar (open air market that sells fruit, vegetables, clothes, live fish, chickens of questionable origin, flowers fresh and in colors not found in nature, basically everything). I realized that I sort of made sure I looked nice to go shopping. I guess I find it scary as I write this for an American audience because I see how different my life is at the moment and how basic it is. How excited I get when I speak correctly in Russian or how accomplished I feel when I do something small like ask how much something costs and understand. Scale is different here.

The bazaar was fine, normalna in local parlance, and only one thing was weird for me, the woman selling fish swimming around in bloody water. I realize I am such a wimpy meat eater. I also think that it’s ok to chose how one buys meat or fish and that one doesn’t have to support merchants that sell fish in such a way.

Ira hates the bazaar, she tells me that she finds it dirty and she’s short spoken to some of the sellers. In general, I think that she wants very much to be part of a more modern Ukraine and that things that seem old fashioned or not 1st world aren’t to her liking. This judgment, of course, 10 days after having met her.

Final digression: I realized the other day that I’ve been saying the word for “five” instead of the casual greeting word, “hi.” They slightly similar in Russian, verrrrryyyyy slightly and this realization explains so many things to me, the least of which is the lack of response I’ve been getting.

20 mar 03
I look at my nails. They are painted my favourite red and etched with an intricate design in white with silver accents. Ira, my host sister, painstakingly painted them, using a sewing needle and small brush for the design.

I look at my pretty nails and feel guilty for not enjoying Ira’s company today, for wanting to go into my room, really her room, and close the door. I feel guilty for having this stupid computer, I feel guilty for using their medicine, I feel guilty for having nice things, so I am constantly bringing things out to share. I don’t only do this to assuage my guilt, but partly. I feel guilty for my existence and my utter luck of being born American, white, into a family that loves me, etc. Ira is white, born into a family that loves her, getting and education, survived illness from Chernobyl.

I also feel awful because Helena and Ira are both a little sick from my cold. Helena is coughing and looks poorly. Of course, this could mean that some of the food onslaught would stop, although

I look at the intricate design of these nails and feel unworthy of such attention and care. I also am wishing that I’d only eaten ½ of the pelminiky (pork dumplings) w/ butter that was tonight’s dinner.

I so wanted to veg out and watch TV, try to glean the English underneath the Russian dubbed made for TV movie. I wanted to read Russian Cosmo w/o Ira pointing out every page, parroting her good English and careful Russian for me.

I’m not always up for being on, for dealing w/ the language, the constant hanging out, the lack of personal time. Communicating that while I thoroughly enjoy the cooking, I absolutely cannot eat another pelminiky. Please could I have yogurt and fruit instead of chicken soup for breakfast.

I’m reaching the stage where some novelty has worn off and this is where dedication, time off, persistent learning and staying out of ill-thought-out routines will help me get on. I need to allow myself to close the door when I need to and also challenge myself to socialize spontaneously.

I also need to get super regimented about my health. Being sick this past week has really emphasized this.

A Trip to the Big City 16 March 2003

On Sunday I went to Kyiv w/ Ira, my host sister. She took me around to some pretty areas of the city and it is still amazing that I might live there. The metro here is deep underground and riding it involves taking a steep escalator that freaks me out. That combined with the fast speed of said steep escalator makes for an adventurous ride. Did I mention the crowds? Taking this escalator was an exercise in deep breathing, but the metro is clean and normal by my standards.

In Kyiv, we walked along a major street that is closed off on the weekend, the Khreshcatyk and also to the outside of a couple of churches and along a cobbled street that has a major tourist market. There are many old looking buildings and several major renovated churches and I’m excited to explore it ruther.

When we returned to Brovary, we went to a party that was for all of the PCT's (Peace Corps Trainees - perhaps much like the military, we have many acronyms) in our cluster (why did they name it cluster? I keep thinking of squirrels - is that from a cereal??) We met in the basement of one of these gargantuan apartment buildings here. We 7 PCT's were seated at the head of a long table heavily laden with food and drink.

One old tradition in Ukraine is to greet guests w/ an elaborate loaf of bread with pretty decorations on top and salt, both of which the guests eat. We were entertained by the musical stylings of one of the host mothers who performs Ukrainian folk songs with a group while wearing traditional embroidered dress. I kept thinking how we had traveled so far and how we were now, I don't know, rewarded for our efforts. Not so much by the food and music, but rather from all the effort that these people make for us. It is so hard still to fathom that these people take us in as strangers and treat us as honored guests, all on no merit of our own. I am humbled every day to be here, to be treated as I am. We are tremendously privileged to have this opportunity and I thank especially the American taxpayers for supporting us.

Much merriment, toasting and drinking of homemade wine and vodka ensued, from which I already have a headache (the wine, not the merriment per se). There may have also been dancing to loud Ukrainian traditional songs translated to pop music and a poor rendition sung of "America the Beautiful" but I will never tell our cluster's secrets.

The Way to a New Home -- 12 March 2003

I am away from everything and everyone that I know, in a land where I don’t know the language. I take 2 buses (called marshrutkas and really they’re mini-vans) and 2 metros, it is raining and getting dark. As I get off the last marshrutka a group of women and children are waiting for me, and from the group, 2 come forward to collect I. I stammer my prepared greeting (my name is ____, very glad to meet you) and they guide me through the rain and mud puddles to their apartment building. They are a mother and daughter (Helena and Ira, respectively) and are bundled up so much in the cold rain that I can’t really see their faces well in the cloudy afternoon and waning light.

Once inside, I remember to take off my shoes at the door, as is the custom. A beautiful Siamese cat begins mewing underfoot and I get out another phrase, “I love cats.” The mother hurriedly calls the daughter and the daughter brings out a piece of paper, from which she reads, “The cat is very dangerous and vicious.” Ok, will remember to leave the cat alone. I remember my solemn pledge to stay out of Ukrainian hospitals.

Helena and Ira show me to my new room, which I ascertain is Ira’s room, as she still has some books and personal effects in it. The room is spacious and as is customary here, has a pretty Oriental rug hung on the wall and one on the floor. I have a bed, a desk and what they call a “skof,” which is a set of cabinets and shelves that seem to be omnipresent in homes here. Despite all the warnings about how small Ukrainian apartments are, or perhaps because of them, I am pleasantly surprised at the room in the apartment.

Ira begins to speak English and tells me to wash up for dinner. I change clothes to something non-muddy and brush my hair, trying to spruce up for dinner. They set a table in the living/tv room with a pretty white table cloth. I break out my first gift for them, a box of nice chocolates. It is very important to never, ever come to someone’s house w/o at least a box of chocolates. I have homemade soap as another gift, but that is deep w/in a bag, so it will have to wait.

We sit down to a table full of dishes. Pickled tomatoes, cucumbers and red peppers, mashed potatoes, some kind of meat, cabbage rolls stuffed w/ rice and meat (golubets), cookies for later and another box of chocolates. There is also a bottle of champagne, juice and water. Helena opens the champagne and makes a toast to friendship, which Ira translates. I try to make a toast saying that my parents thank them for taking me in, but am unsure how it translates. The dinner is marked w/ some moments of ackward silences, but generally nice and I have to work hard not to stare at the TV, which is on.

Before going to bed, they take me around the house, showing me how the bathroom and toilet work and telling me that it’s ok that the doors don’t fully close, since we’re all women. I’m thrilled beyond belief that there’s hot water! So far no cold showers.

The next day is a half day for me for class, and I feel a little funny waking up and being in their house while they’re at work. I worry that they are worried, worried that I might light the gas stove incorrectly or forget to lock the door or go through their things.

Not to worry, for the cat, Dulcinea, watches my every move, following me around the house, hissing at me if I get too close to her perch. Definitely will never, ever pet this cat. It is psychotic for sure.

The next night, I come home after class and running some errands. Ira and Helena ask me what I did and more importantly, where I ate lunch. I tell them how I had some valrenneky (dumplings) at a café w/ my teacher and cluster mates. They tell me that I should have lunch everyday at their apartment. We were told that we wouldn’t be fed lunch and are given an allowence each week for lunch and bottled water, but I soon find out from my other cluster mates that no one’s family’s are letting them eat out.

I find over the next few days that I must be careful what foods I say I like or careful how I compliment a dish, b/c it may directly affect our menu. I find that Helena grows increasingly determined to feed me 5 helpings each meal and complains via Ira that I don’t eat enough. This causes chortles from me, as it might some of you. I learn how to say “That’s enough, thank you.” Helena feigns incomprehension. I repeat or leave some food on my plate to back up my point. I stop eating lunch b/c it’s really so much food to have three meals. Who am I kidding? If I come home before dinner, I get fed a whole other meal with tea.

I am a stranger that this family has adopted as someone to feed and worry over. If I leave w/o a hat, Helena will get me to carry it. I have gotten sick – I wanted you to know how they are caring for me. I actually have a bad-sounding cough and a sinus infection, so my symptoms are rather loud and dramatic. Ira has been bringing me cough syrup, losanges and when Helena got home tonight, they came w/ nasal spray and the thermometer. I was grateful that they showed me to put it into my armpit before I put it in my mouth!

There’s also a chapter in my Russian language book on health, so I was able to tell them in Russian that I didn’t have a temperature, which was exciting for me. It’s amazing how doing what interests one does for one’s attitude. Instead of feeling homesick and sorry for myself for being a bit ill, I am excited to learn new vocabulary! :-)

Joking aside, I am trying to slow down a bit, which is difficult due to aforementioned enthusiasm. I did phone the Peace Corps medical officer to describe my symptoms, as I’ve never had this particular kind of cough and he recommended rest, fluid and that if I don’t improve in the next 2 days, that I come to Kyiv for them to check me out.

Now some more about Ira and Helena. Perhaps the most humbling fact for me is that they are Chernobyl survivors. I’m pretty sure they lost their father/husband to illness from it. They were living in a village 50 km. from Chernobyl and didn’t move until about 8 years ago. Ira briefly mentioned that they were ill, but then said that was before and now they’re fine. I’m curious, but am waiting to get to know them better before asking too many questions. Ira is 21 and teaches political science and philosophy at a middle school and also is studying at a university in Kyiv. She commutes each day to do either one or both. Helena does some kind of work that I don’t really understand with pensioners, or retired people who are living on now miniscule pensions from Soviet times. As in any economy, they are perhaps the most vulnerable to the vagaries of economy and change to a market economy.

Ira aspires to be upwardly mobile and sees the way to do this via education, something that is very easy to identify with. The Peace Corps training thus far and much of my independent study about Ukraine prepared me to be faced with many challenges in terms of outlook on life and change. So far, perhaps because I haven’t strayed far from Kyiv, I haven’t experienced very much of this. Oh, right, perhaps it’s also b/c I don’t speak enough Russian nor Ukrainian to understand the cultural difference!

Blog for the dates of 6-11 March 2003

We began our language training, technical training and medical exams (read, many needle pokes) the next day. We also had many interviews to try to fill in information about us for the decision making process to place us at our permanent sites.

This week was a surprisingly (to me, anyway) difficult time. I kept thinking that it should be so much easier and shouldn’t feel so emotional, as I was in a nice hotel-like situation, surrounded by Americans, being fed three square meals. Probably I was decompressing from the last few days in Colorado, all the logistics, all the work, all the goodbyes, all the mourning and loss. Ugh. That sucked, but I know was a necessary evil.

The bright sides were many: the interesting and wonderful grocery store nearby, our amazing Language and Cultural Facilitators (LCF’s), the interesting seminars about Ukrainian culture, economy, government and current status, slowly being able to read signs in Cyrillic, trying out Ukrainian champagne. Checking out the expo grounds each morning. The party we had the last night for our LCF’s in the lobby of our dorm. Meeting people, hanging out, etc.

After a week of this, we were scheduled to first find out what site and city we’d been assigned to then leave for our clusters for the remaining 3 months of training. “Clusters” means that we’re broken into groups of 3-5 people, each assigned a host family to live with, and each cluster has one LCF to teach whichever language is requested by our site, e.g. either Ukrainian or Russian.

The day before we were to depart for clusters, we were gathered in the afternoon in a large auditorium at the PiGy to find out our site and locations. The auditorium stage was laid out with paper to form a not-to-scale map of Ukraine, with major cities indicated by pieces of paper.

The Peace Corps has divided the country into regions not along oblast (like states) lines. I think there are 6-7 regions per the Peace Corps. In any case, the PC directors of these regions were there. Our training director, Andrey, read out our names, then the regional director for our site read out the organization name and city. It was rather like a game show and there was a keen sense of anticipation and nervousness among us.

I was really, really, really shocked when my name was read out attached to “Kyiv.” I stood on the stage in awed silence, growing increasingly upset as I read the sheet of paper that had a description of the organization I’d been assigned to.

Even though I knew from our training that little of what was written on the sheet of paper would really be true in our experience at the organization, I still was quite upset. The organization, the Consortium for the Enhancement of Management Education, works to promote increased and standardized business education in Ukraine. It seemed like a very generic, business assignment and I couldn’t tell at all what part of my experience was related to business education. Further, how could I learn Russian if I was in Kyiv? My paper listed the fact that all the staff members spoke English and that the director was American.

Everything seemed so contrary to what I’d been preparing myself for: a mid-sized city away from the international, urbane capitol, in a situation where I’d absolutely HAVE to learn Russian/Ukrainian, somewhat isolated from Americans or other expatriates. How could I have this super-posh assignment and really have a true Peace Corps experience? I was going to be a complete lazy, English speaking moron, working for a business education organization.

Thus, I had my first proper meltdown. It was somewhat public, as I have never been skilled at hiding my emotions. Some comments about how my meltdown was received. The LCF’s were around, probably on purpose as I imagine I’m not the first PCT to meltdown at this stage. When I was trying hard to get out of the building to compose myself in private, a couple stopped me with concern. That was lovely, despite my utter incoherence at the time. I also was really touched by how supportive some of my fellow trainees were, especially the ones that were really excited by the page of information they received.

I did get to my room, drank some water, tried to calm down. I went to the session the Kyiv regional manager was having to orient us. I was still really upset and couldn’t speak to anyone without crying.

After the session, I left and soon realized that I needed to talk to someone about my concerns, because otherwise I was going to *really* freak out. Peace Corps is pretty touchy-feely for a government organization and encourages “reaching out.” However, I really hate being very teary in public and further really hate to complain about things that don’t feel justified, so it was difficult.

I was able to talk privately with a Peace Corps employee who’s helping with the Kyiv region and he was not touchy-feely, but very helpful. I needed facts mainly and also a bit of time to wrap my head around this concept of working in the capitol and for an American-lead organization.

He was a skillful salesman, and helped me to see the potential in the site placement and also told me that it was a high-profile job that could give me excellent contacts within the international development community. He could have sold me prime farmland in Chernobyl Zone 1 at that point, but it calmed me and allowed my reasoning functions to resume and my body to leave the stress zone.

Blog for the dates of 4-6 March 2003

We flew via Lufthansa uneventfully to Frankfurt. Lufthansa is nice. Frankfurt was a great layover, as it was German and therefore nice and clean, but very European, so a little foreign, which was good to adjust to.

We then took a smaller plane that was all Business Class (read, “bigger, leather chairs, nicer food and especially friendly flight attendants”). When we began to descend, I was riveted as we emerged below the clouds and saw a frozen vista, white and gray and black and more gray. I think I imbued it with a sense of difference, but if I’d been told we were descending into Kansas, I would have believed it.

The Peace Corps Ukraine staff was waiting for us after Immigration with warm greetings and luggage carts. We loaded up, then gathered outside the airport to toss bags into one truck, bodies into another.

By this time, we’d been traveling for 18 hours or so, counting the Frankfurt layover, and my body was tired. I’d slept pieces of time during the journey, but really very little. I found myself getting annoyed with a particularly loudmouthed fellow trainee that had sat behind me on both planes and now the bus – 18 hours of loud comments that were only funny the first 5 hours. When he said this particularly insensitive comment, I almost throttled him: “I guess if I roll around in the dirt for a while, I’ll look just like the people here.” Luckily, our training director, Andrey, was talking with this person and had a patient retort for him.

We arrived at our home for the next week, the Post Graduate Institute, or the Piggy, on the outskirts of Kyiv. I was thrilled, thrilled, thrilled to find nice rooms, nice bathrooms and HOT WATER!! I realized how much I’d prepared myself for hardship in this experience and how each time something was nice, how happy I was.

I needed to stay awake and desperately needed to be outside, despite the cold and gray or perhaps because of it. I found some co-conspirators and we pretended we didn’t know we weren’t supposed to leave the grounds. For god’s sake, we’re not in Iran, we’re just in Kyiv and the suburbs for that matter! Even though it will take away from the rebel factor, one of my co-conspirators, Carrie, is a fluent Russian speaker, so we knew we’d be ok. Safe rebellion isn’t as sexy.

We walked up a broad avenue and saw a golden spire of some type in the distance and decided to walk to it. What we found was an immense grounds of an exposition center, full of nearly 20 enormous Soviet style buildings, each with wonderful tributes to the agricultural might of Ukraine. We ventured up to one and found it open and heated, somewhat of a surprise. We’d find out eventually that this was built in the 1960’s and was a former National Fair grounds, now used for conventions. That was a find.

We had dinner in the cafeteria and enjoyed our first pounded, egg battered fried meat and mashed potatoes meal and then soon retired for sleep. I slept a normal night and felt quite unscathed from jet lag, a first for me.

Blog for the dates of 1-4 March 2003

It has been some time since I have written here. I will endeavor to catch the blog up to date in small batches.

I last wrote after the Tour d'East Coast and family adventure. I returned to Boulder for about 12 days to finish up work and packing and get in a healthy dose of freaking out.

I was so overwhelmed by my friends' outpouring of support, meals and attention. One common thought throughout this process has been how I do nothing alone and how I am so supported in this adventure.

We had a happy hour at Bacaro in Boulder the Saturday night before I left. I was gratified at the amount of people that came, down to Sherry, a wonderful, interesting woman I know b/c she has been cleaning my teeth at Dr. Baxt's office for 6 yrs or so...

It was surreal to think that the night was my last one for a while and saying goodbye at times was difficult. I stayed out too late, guilty all the while for not being home and spending QT with Hawk. It’s hard even now, some 3 weeks later, to think of it. It was snowing hard and when Christopher and I got back to Frieda’s home, we took Hawk out for a jaunt in the snow. Hawk was a bit more crazed than usual perhaps in reaction to my obvious stress. I guess there’s just no good way to leave.

The next morning, I got up early, still finishing last bits of packing, and Christopher helped me stuff my 4 bags, Hawk and us into his jeep. Luckily, it had stopped snowing sometime in the night, and the driving was fine. I was tired, numb, overwhelmed, grateful beyond compare to Christopher for being with me and being willing to drive me to the airport.

Without going through the whole sad saga, I said a difficult goodbye to both the dog and the man. I made it to my gate and found my PC friend, Scott, waiting already to fly to Chicago.

When we took off, the plane made a broad arch to the West to turn around and I felt so happy to see those craggy, snowy peaks from such a vantage point one more time before leaving. It felt right to say a proper goodbye to them as well. Only they are nearly guaranteed not to change much in my absence.

We arrived in Chicago to the hotel where we’d stay for 2 days before departing for Ukraine. Those days were pretty surreal. I met lots of people, we had initial training to begin our PC indoctrination and took care of some logistics. There I met Carrie, who is becoming a good friend, as well as loads of cool, interesting people from all sorts of backgrounds. Young college grads, people with a few years work experience, retired lawyers, business people, lots of non-profit experience, lots of living abroad experience. We had a generous per diem and it was indulgent to eat Vietnamese, sushi, etc. for lunches and dinners.

The last night in Chicago, I stayed out way too late at an Irish pub and had fun meeting new people and hanging out with people I already knew. One of our PC staff, Matt, was out also and it was fun to get to know him unofficially.

The next day was full of “hurry up and wait” moments. I was thrilled to be able to comfortably carry my luggage on my back and w/ the luggage cart and felt quite smug when watching other PCT’s struggle. (competitive nature rears its ugly head – must remember, the race is with myself)

I was so grateful that Frieda had gotten me a postage-paid envelope for me to mail my cell phone to her from the airport. I spent much of my time in the line to check in talking to Stephanie and this was such a lovely way to say goodbye to home, and spent much of my waiting time before the airport calling people, leaving messages on answering machines, etc. It was so comforting.