I read a quote once that said, An optimist sees the glass half full, a pessimist sees the glass half empty, and a Peace Corps volunteer sees the glass and says, “Hey I can take a bath with that!”

Truer words, my friends. That said:

I’ve mastered the art of taking a shower.

Now, let’s start at the beginning. I am so lucky and thankful that not only do I have an honest to God shower, it has freakin’ HOT water. SWEET. No bucket bath for this volunteer.

But even with all those pluses, there are still some tricks. For one, I’ve only seen one operating shower curtain since I’ve been in Ukraine. They just don’t use ’em. So to take a shower, I get in the tub, crouch down and aim the showerhead toward the wall, away from the floor. Then I sort of half get under the spray, half block it with my body to keep the water from bouncing off me and splashing over the tub. It’s awkward, but it does make you rush. I’m always excited when I’m able to do it without getting water all over the place. Nothing worse than wet slippers.

Hygiene in general is a challenge. First, Ukrainians don’t bathe nearly as much as Americans do (sometimes making the bus ride a rather ripe trip). But since appearance is SO important here, everyone manages to look their best despite the lack of hot water. On average, I take a shower maybe every other day or every two days if I can stretch it.

So you get creative. The first day of a hair wash, it’s down. The second day, a ponytail. The third, twisted into a barrette. I wash my face every morning and evening. Keep my hands clean and nails groomed. And oh crap, that reminds me I need to clean my boots. :(

This topic became more boring than I thought it would.

I hate going overseas for almost as many reasons as I love going overseas. After all it’s really great to experience a new culture, seeing new sites, blah blah blah.

But I really hate being the ugly American.

It’s unavoidable. Unless you are blessed with the double whammy of incredible good looks and lots of money you will look like an ugly American. And I’m pretty decent looking. At least pleasant. But all the ego boosts in the world could not have prepared me for Eastern European women.

Now, I thought I was prepared. I heard they were gorgeous, that they dressed sexy, that they were never seen without makeup. The stories of their tight jeans and three-inch heels made their way back to the States like tales of sea monsters and mermaids. I asked ahead of time and was (falsely) reassured that women here aren’t any better looking than they are back home. (Rule number 31: Never trust a man to judge a woman’s hotness.)

Bold. Faced. Lie.

Now on average, older Ukrainian women are about on par with Americans. Men, too. But teenage and young women. Holy smokes. The average hotness goes way up. I’m not even sure if they are actually more beautiful or if it’s just more effort but they are definitely doing something that works.

I feel like I’m going to see some young thing get discovered on the streets. That’ll be great. Then I can feel bad about how I look compared to her in person AND when I get back to the States and see her on the cover of Vogue.

I have a slight panic attack when I get dressed in the morning when I realize I have the same pair of ill-fitting jeans to wear before I shrug in hopelessness. There is nothing I can do to make myself pretty here. The sexiest clothing I brought with me is, no surprise, all my summer stuff, and even that is pretty damn tame.

To add to the frumpiness, my pants are now too big from my weight loss and it got cold so I have to wear my big coat. Neither emphasizes my newfound tiny waist. In fact, now I just look like an unfashionable American who can’t buy clothes.

I’ll never win.

I’ve lost roughly 12 pounds since arriving in Ukraine. I’m chalking up the last four I dropped to being sick for two days and I expect they will come back in the next week or so, but Jesus, 12 pounds!

My pants are so loose they bunch up when I pull my belt tight.

My skinny jeans are starting to get baggy.

WTF? I had abs under there?

Not that I’m knocking any of this. This is awesome! I just hope it sticks. Would love to be this thin when I get back home but I hear that I’m going to “get fat again” when I get to site, as apparently that’s what happens to all female PCVs.

Sigh. Enjoy it while it lasts I guess.

Speaking of weight…

I live in a variety of ages here. In many ways, I’m a toddler. I can’t go anywhere by myself, I need to be in before dark and my mom makes breakfast and dinner for me every night. If it weren’t for the crippling caffeine addiction, I’d be in kindergarten. Except that kindergarten is way too advanced for me.

Afterall, I can’t speak fluently and even a freakin’ 3-year-old can do that. I couldn’t even tell the guy at my table today that “Mommy told me never to talk to strangers.” See, at 3, I could do that. Now? Nuh uh.

And then I feel like I’m in middle school. Aside from Americans, the next people I have the most contact with are my 12-year-old host sibs. We talk about American music and play cards, especially War and Blackjack. Just like 8^th grade, ’miright? Also, with all the romantic drama playing out in my training group and my role as a spectator in such drama is exactly like 7^th grade. Not to mention that no one has a place to be taking anyone back to so the best anyone can hope for during training is first, and, if they find a dark ally, second base. See just like middle school.

But the staying out late, drinking in the park, and coming in past curfew only to be yelled at by your mom…now that’s high school. (Oddly, I’m once again a spectator as I’m AGAIN too far from all my friends to do such things.)

But, the workload, the class schedule, the lack of control and the dirty laundry. Ah it must be college.

And yet, I’m planning a wedding that I’ll be participating in when I’m technically 28. Can I please be an adult again?

I don’t know if you ever thought about how language operates before but can I just say that it royally sucks to try to learn it?

Russian, for example, has one way of conjugating for the past tense that is universal for verbs with some exceptions, and basically one way of conjugating for the future. This is very different from English where there are, I believe, six forms of the past tense ALONE. But where Ruski gets you is in its cases.

If you’ve ever taken any language that’s not English, you’ve probably dealt with gendered words. The table is a man, the bed is a woman, and the sun is so confused it could start teaching courses at SF State and in a few years demand the university offer a diploma in gender neutral studies.

To go along with this fun past time of assigning gender to things that have no sexual organs, Russian also likes to make all genders agree depending on the “case.” This is all fine and dandy when things are simple, like Ya oocheetal. (I am a teacher). But they get really fun when you try to tell people you took the bus to get to the library. Then “bibliotecka” becomes “bibliotecku” etc. Or if you don’t have some thing masculine things get an “a” or “ya” ending, the feminine things that had the a or ya ending now have an “ee” or “bwe” ending and neutral things follow masculine rules.

I’ve found ways around this though. In Russian, you don’t change case endings for words like “café” and “taxi” because they were borrowed other languages. Nowadays, when we have to practice sentences in class, I’m always walking to the café. Which isn’t far from the truth. Also, I always have things. I answer in one-word sentences, and I’ve made the phrase “my friend” gender neutral by screwing it up so badly that it comes out as “muy pa-droogee.”

I learned past and future tenses in Russian class. FINALLY now I can tell my host mom that I WENT to the café and tomorrow I WILL go again! HA HA.

iTunes is a bit like the old love I always come back to. I remember in the hey day of it’s newness, when the iPod just came out and hey look! You can get cheap music over the internets without getting sued! It was cheap and easy, all I had to do was click and a song was mine! Three months and a 100 downloads later I was in love.

But love is fickle, and I was shortly seduced by cheaper and easier sites like Limewire, Demonoid and the village bicycle of bit torrents, The Pirates’ Bay. Suddenly I felt so stupid for ever paying for an album. I looked back at iTunes and thought of what a stuck up bitch it had become. What a goody goody. It even raised its prices on its most popular goods, the hussy.

But now in Ukraine, where my internet time is precious to me and I can’t afford to leave my computer to download Dollhouse for 12 hours a day, where I don’t want to be arrested for downloading, where I want to be the good little media consumer again, I find myself falling back into iTunes forgiving arms. And it got me again. A few clicks and I have a season pass to The Venture Bros. I’m in need of some pensive Mountain Goats. I want to here La Bamba the way Ricky Valens intended. Hell, I may even take their movie rentals for a spin.

Sure, I may be having file-swapping orgies with the other volunteers, and yes I may be turning a blind eye to how they got their goods, but I swear, baby, I’ve changed. Nothing can beat that instant gratification iTunes brings me. At least for now…

Toilets are odd things. I used to see them as a sort of marker for civilization. This one time, Gill and I were driving up 101 and stopped at a Shell gas station in King City. My need to pee was undeniable and I took the plunge in going to the bathroom. I walked to the women’s room to see a sign that said, “Out of Order.”

Remember that.

Undaunted, I moved on to the men’s room, figuring that’s what everyone else was doing. Luckily it was unlocked and empty so I moved in, and locked the door.

Holy shit what a smell.

The place was a disaster. There was one stall next to a hole in the floor where I can only assume the urinal once stood. The stall was out of seat covers (surprise, surprise), there was graffiti on everything and the stall door didn’t lock. Hu rah. Oh and the toilet didn’t flush and clearly hadn’t been flushing for a while. I bolted out of there as fast as possible after doing my business and Gill considered burning her shoes afterwards.

Now, what kind of state do you think the women’s was in that it was out of order?

So being a spoiled American, European toilets can be a bit jarring. Sure for some reason there are no seat covers in public toilets in France, but nothing compares to the squat toilet.

Now if you’ve never used one, pay attention, they can be tricky. First thing to remember: Always bring your toilet paper or tissues. Second thing to remember: Practice at home and do squats. You’ll thank me.

Now, squat toilets are by nature a toilet you must squat over to do your business. Some may say that it’s no different than say, the nasty King City Shell station that you wouldn’t sit on in a million years anyway. But lo, there is a difference. In some instances, a squat toilet is nothing more than a toilet seat slightly raised off the ground with a hole underneath and no water in the “bowl.” The particular one I decided to visit while out for a night in Red Square in Chernighiv was in the cinema basement, just past what appeared to be a mini market and the coat check all in one.

Now, thankfully, Laura Ruth has much experience with squat toilets since they’re the only kind of toilets at the university she’s training at. And like a well-prepped person she brought Kleenex to kindly share with me. I was slightly buzzed and a little stressed the first time I used the squat toilet. What if I miss? What if I pee on my shoes? It’s terrifying!

The trick I found in that hazy evening was simple if difficult: Get as close as you possibly can to the hole and you’re less likely to miss. Also, hanging on to the stall door handle for extra support doesn’t hurt. I’m glad to say that despite my buzz I managed to get it all in with no troubles, and even remembered to throw my TP in the wastebasket and not the toilet.

I’ve never felt like the hopeless girl before.

Today at the café, Karen and Laura Ruth discussed girly stuff that I’ve somehow avoided learning all my life.

When I was a kid I stubbornly fought against my girlyness. I denied I ever liked pink. I played with Barbies, but only if they were doing kung fu moves on Timothy’s Power Rangers. For years I would only ever wear a dress when it was absolutely demanded of me by Mommy.

But I was a lousy tomboy. I couldn’t play sports to save my life. Creepy crawlies gave me the heebie jeebies and I have no upper body strength. Sad to say but I couldn’t do a pull up if my life depended on it and heaven forbid I ever need to hop a fence.

What I was good at was straddling the two gender roles. I was pretty handy with tools and could help out in the yard. Yet I was also good at helping pick out colors and swooning over David Duchovney (why won’t you love me?). And I kick ass at video games.

But today, in Ukraine, I realize that being tomgirlish is kind of hard. What the hell do I do with a fallen hem? How do I fix my seam? Darn my tights? Throw a punch (actually, I can do that one in theory…)

Worst of all is how strict the gender roles here are. Today at the café, some guy old enough to be my father, butted in on my table, sat himself down and tried to chat me up. Or at least I think he did. All the “ya ne punymayu’s” in the world wouldn’t shake this guy and I eventually abandoned the table to him and “niet spasseba’ed” my way out of eating the pie he tried to buy me for the safety of a table of Americans with the all important American Male. Every group of girls needs at least one. Apparently if there’s a guy looking out for us it’s supposed to repel Ukrainian men. Lord knows why, I had only met the guy this morning. But it seemed to do the trick and the old dude left me alone. Three things I learned from this morning:

1. Being an ugly American does not make you invisible.
2. Don’t SMILE at anyone.
3. Don’t accept things from strangers
4. Some people just don’t care that you’re clearly doing something else and that you clearly have not had a shower. Anytime’s a good time to chat up strangers.

I’ve officially been in Ukraine for a full week now but it feels like a heck of a lot more. This is my first day off since I left the States so I’m taking the opportunity to geek out and watch videos, play with my external hard drive and in general do all the things I did in America. Except with Russian in the background. It’s interesting to see English stuff on TV here. By law, everything is translated into Ukrainian so everything is dubbed or it’s Russian with Ukrainian subtitles. Last night I watched the Mummy in Ukrainian and before that it was Transporter 2. Or something. It had Jason Statham and a lot of unrealistic physics going on, need I say more? Another funny thing was flipping through and seeing “Married With Children” in Ukrainian, with Ukrainian actors and everything! Same costume, set, big Peggy Bundy hair and all. Sooooo funny to see! We met our link cluster (the other Russian learning group nearby that we’ll be learning TEFL with) yesterday. They seem nice all around. Their town in just a short while outside of my city and they were quite jealous that we had so much to do here. I hope I stay here or in a city, I don’t know if I could handle country living and I’m not one of those PCVs that feels like the Peace Corps experience needs to include me roughing it. What else? My host mom did my nails last night and I got to say, they’re pretty swanky. They’re black with a cool green sparkly swirl on them. Very nice. OK the fam just got back from a shopping expo so I’m gonna go try to integrate. It’s quite difficult because I feel like a creeper. Here, I’m the dumb 5 year old that can’t talk. Sure I can get up and walk around but the phrase “mute and illiterate” plays over and over again in my head. ☹ While my family is super patient and helpful, Russian is really hard to figure out and I’m sort of praying for something to just TURN ON in my brain that will let me learn this. Hey it worked for English right? I just need to be immersed enough but I feel like all the Russian soap operas are never going to help. In other slightly more depressing news, please send emails. PLEASE. You’ve no idea how nice it is to get an email here from someone who is not a stranger. (Seriously, the people in my cluster I only met on Wednesday. Wednesday people!) I don’t get to check my email that often right now because I need a new card for my modem (which I’m going to get at the bazaar tomorrow after school) but when I did my inbox was, depressingly, full of spam and redundant documents from PC. Send me anything! Funny links, music, latest tidbits, tell me what’s going on daily cause otherwise I’m going to be out in the cold figuratively and literally.

Super nervous about tomorrow when I meet my training school! Gah!