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On the way back from a Hallowe'en party with a coworker, our cab stops to pick up two locals.  One of them decides to practice her English on us.

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It's a nice fallish weekend, so on Saturday my friend J and I headed to a modern art musem that's in an old arsenal factory in Kyiv.  The space is amazing, so it was nice to see. We're definitely both people who fall into the "OMG what is that?" category of critique around some art, though, so we definitely spent more time trying to be mature and not laugh at, say, the huge carpeted box with mirrors inside and holes you could stick your arms into ("Hahaha, someone dropped their program in there!") or the plastic food containers with random trash in them than actually being serious about what we were looking at.  When it devolved into weird performance art, I had to skedaddle through some of the exhibits.  That stuff freaks me out.  Don't need to watch any naked ladies playing with dental drills, thanks.  Here, however, are a few of the highlights of what we saw:

LOLcats!  Right in a museum!

Fight in the Verkhovna Rada. I would definitely have bought a print of this if there had been one for sale.  

Actual highlight! I think J and I agreed that this was our favourite thing in the museum.  It's a (very) short piece about a guy who takes art into rural villages and will only barter for-- rather than sell-- pieces.  Very funny and genuine.

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Kosovo is all done, and I'm in DC for training for a couple of weeks.  One week down, one week to go.  Finished my AEF (bleh), started wading through the bid list to try to figure out what to do for my onward post, all that good stuff.  So a couple of weeks back in DC with my peeps, a weekend in Richmond with my parents, was pretty much just what the doctor ordered.  Except for one thing.

I'm homesick.

I am cripplingly, devastatingly homesick.

I don't know if this is normal or not.  I don't even know if it's new or not (for me).  Most of the time, when I'm at post, I just don't let myself think about home. If it creeps into my mind, I banish it immediately. It seems like a dangerous road to go down, and maybe that should be my first hint.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I know plenty of people who are in town right now, and are perfectly happy to be here.  They're ready to do some shopping, see some friends, eat some food they can't get at post, all that good stuff.  But most of them seem perfectly happy to go back to their friends, family, pets, work at post.  Last week, I had dinner with 5-6 of my training classmates who all happen to be in town right now, and only one of them-- who is actually now back in the States (for family reasons)-- put it exactly in the words I was trying to formulate.  And, naturally, everyone else at the table looked at her like she had three heads.

She said: "You know, when I was in [Country X], Vonage was my lifeline.  I never really felt like I lived there.  And now I'm back here, and it's like [Country X] never happened.  It's like I never even went.  I don't feel connected to it at all."

That's exactly how I feel.  When I'm in Ukraine (or even when I was in Kosovo-- which I truly loved) I never feel like I live there.  I feel like I live here and I just happen to be there for an extended period of time.  I genuinely like my work, and I have some genuinely good friends, but being here... it's like none of that ever happened.  I don't feel excited to be back in the States.  I feel like I live here, and why would I ever leave.  

I woke up this morning at 5, mostly because it was 400 degrees in my Mom's house and I was sleeping in flannel sheets, but once I got a drink of water I couldn't go back to sleep for thinking about how much I do not want to leave. I'm home now. That other place is okay and all, but it's not home.  

Don't worry, I don't have any notions of not going back. Of course I'm going back.  I've never been a quitter and I'm not going to start being one now.  I just really have to figure out what this means for my future.  Maybe it doesn't mean anything.  Maybe it's just that it's my first trip home in nearly a year and I'm overwhelmed.  Maybe in a few weeks it'll pass and I'll be back in the saddle.  

Or maybe it means a lot.

Stay tuned, I guess.

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• Every post has its quirks, I guess. The quirk here in Pristina seems to be that people play a lot of cards.  This seriously limits my social opportunities because the only card games I'm proficient at are War and Go Fish.  Someone tried to teach me something last weekend (Spades? Is that a thing?), and it was a total lost cause. I need Hearts for Dummies or something.
• Went to a rakija tasting this afternoon. Holy Lord. (That is all.)
• It is not reassuring when people talk about sending you on a site visit, and then make a joke about cars getting blown up. Ha ha. Ha ha.
• What is with the Balkan obsession with roasted corn on the cob as street food? I mean, don't get me wrong, you could obviously do way worse. But it's everywhere (and was in Croatia, too). My favourite here is that you can get "corn in a cup". Mmmmmm.
• Yesterday evening I was walking around downtown and found what was obviously the wall where they hang pictures of people who were killed in the war. Also, street toy vendors sell toy AK-47s. Some of the hallmarks of a very recently post-conflict society?
• I invite you now to please be jealous of my vacation in Croatia a couple of weeks ago...

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The following things have happened in the last 24 hours:

1. Through my master sprinting skills, managed to make a connection in Vienna in 15 minutes;
2. Arrived in Pristina a bag down;
3. Nearly got stuck in my bedroom this morning;
4. Been through more bomb checks than the rest of my life cumulatively (where 3 > 0);
5. Heard the marimba remix of "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For".

Hello, Kosovo.

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Yesterday, a member of our Mission senior staff had a party for all us newbies (although, "newbie" is kind of the wrong word, given that some of the invitees are moving on to their next posts pretty soon).  A few of us got there, started making small talk and getting food, and then one of them sidled up to me with an urgent whisper.

"There's a cat here."

Now, I have to make clear that I am super, super allergic to cats.  Some people have a hard time in the spring because they're a little/medium-range allergic to a lot of things. I am just really, really allergic to one thing. Like, epi-pen allergic.  You know how some people eat peanuts and immediately need an ambulance?  That's me + cats, with about a 15 minute delay.

I knew I had to leave, but as I was trying to figure out how to do it with even a smidge of social grace, another, different whisper was even more urgent. "It's by your shoes."

So, this immediately got really really awkward because everyone had settled in our hosts' living room, where everything was carpeted and upholstered, which meant I just could not be in that room, which meant pretty much my only option was to shout across the room that I had to leave. I do not believe that this is exactly what is required from diplomatic protocol, but hey, shit happens. At least one of my coworkers came and stood with me on the last bit of hardwood floor so I didn't look like a total asshole.

Anyway, it was really awkward, and I felt like a tool for having forgotten to ask about the cat beforehand, and of course it does not exactly play well.  But!  It was so nice to realize that our little circle of newbies has each other's backs. Honestly, it would have been really easy not to even notice the cat was around, one of the family explained to me that the cat was "antisocial". At another party later, someone told me that they'd spent about 10 minutes after I left explaining how bad it is and all the other things I've had to just outright skip because of cats.

So, to sum up, I'm sorry it happened, but it gave me warm fuzzies. Also, I'm still itchy. Bleh.

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1. Walk around and figure out the intricacies of Kyiv (weather permitting);

2. Ride trams and figure out where they go;

3. Sort through all the stuff I threw in my study while waiting for my furniture to get switched out;

4. Watch the Netflix movie I've had for three weeks now;

5. Place intermittent, yet consistent, phone calls to my Congressman's office inquiring as to how, precisely, refusing to pay me constitutes effective representation of my interests (Eric Cantor and I are gonna be likethis by the time it's all over... okay, scratch that, ew);

5. Read all these magazines I have sitting around;

6. Turn off my Blackberry (it's illegal to check it, y'all!);

7. Go for runs without my usual "I'm so tiiiiiired" excuse;

8. Catch up on Jersey Shore.

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This weekend I spent 4 days in Warsaw and Krakow with my good friend E from my training class and a colleague of hers from post.  It was super-whirlwind, adding up to about one full day in Krakow and one full day in Warsaw, what with travel between the two and all.  I wish I'd had more time.  I always wish I had more time.

Krakow was a beautiful old city, it reminded me a lot of Tallinn.  I have grand plans to go back and spend time seeing the things I didn't have time for this weekend-- spend some quality time at Wawel, go to the old Jewish quarter, really explore the little nooks and crannies.  (When we did go to Wawel, there was a guy dressed in full period chain mail getting into a little Fiat.  I will regret for the rest of my life not managing to get a picture of that.)

Warsaw was such a mixture of emotions and realities for me. What tragedy and resilience there is in that city.  To walk around old town Warsaw and know that it's all basically a 50-60 year old reconstruction after it was obliterated in the war is both tragic and triumphant.  And slightly strange, like being at Disney Poland. 

But undoubtedly the biggest impact anything had on me was the hour I spent at the Chopin Museum. It was all the time I had, but since it was the only thing I had "on my list" when we planned the trip, I ran with it.  I kind of sprinted through the actual museum part (although I did stand stock still in front of his last piano for probably a good five minutes).  The real highlight was the listening room.  It has booths set up according to the types of compositions he wrote-- Etudes, Ballades, Polonaises, Waltzes... I worked my way through the Waltzes and some of the Etudes, and then went to the Impromptus booth. 90 seconds into the No. 3 in G-Flat Major, I had my head in my hands and I could hardly breathe.  When I was playing piano when I was younger-- and especially when I was working on this piece-- I considered Chopin a personal enemy.  It was so tricky, and I felt like I could never get it right, and that was the space that music existed in for me.  Now removed from the pressure of trying to do the piece justice myself, it was like I could finally relax and appreciate the genius of his composition.  I don't know how I made myself leave.

2-10 Impromptu No. 3 in G-Flat Major, Op. 51.m4a Listen on Posterous

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It's finally warm enough to go out and walk around the city a bit!  I'm so excited; seriously, it's time to get to know the place where I live way, way better than I know it now.  Anyway, I was meeting a coworker and took some pictures on the way.

(All of St. Michael's Golden-Domed Monastery)

I went into the cathedral and there were priests singing Mass. I'm not very religious, but that was easily one of the most beautifully spiritual experiences I've ever had. Luckily I'd grabbed my scarf on my way out of my apartment; it wasn't really cold enough to need it, but without it I couldn't have gone into the church.  Cover your heads, ladies.

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I always get super weird stares for actually working out at the gym; this is apparently not what the gym is for if you're female.  Today the girl on the treadmill next to me was wearing a pink one-piece sweatsuit, in full makeup, talking on the phone and drinking a Coke.  Anyway, after I finished running, I was in the locker room, sweating like a pig, because... I was at the gym.  And some girl who literally spent more time putting on moisturizer than I did changing randomly started talking to me:

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Okay, I didn't really mean one of those shots to be a Kei Nishikori chest shot.  Nevertheless.  Yay, tennis!

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Our mail's been a bit f'ed up around here lately-- what with the snow in Europe and all the holidays here and whatnot.  So today was like a huge mail dump at the office-- I got four boxes, which is always very exciting.  I came home, went to the gym, and then settled in to investigate.

Two of them were things I'd ordered for myself, which is nice and all, and another one was a pair of boots that I ordered before I left and had shipped to my Mom, who then shipped them to me (I can no longer remember why we thought this was an efficient way to do things...), which is also very nice.

Anyhoo, I assumed the last one was from my Mom, too, so I didn't even look at the return address before I opened it.  However!  When I opened it, the first thing I saw was a box of Debbie Meyer Green Bags, so I immediately knew it was from Jen1!  Then I looked further into the box and saw this, which I had not been expecting at all (I kind of asked for the Green Bags, they're as seen on TV and they really work! [ahem]):

Now, the last week or so, I've been a little melancholy.  Maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's because it's been two months, which is about the right time for my carefully constructed facade of "so I moved halfway across the world by myself to a place where I don't know anyone, so what, IT'S COOL" to start crumbling a bit.  But I've been down.  As it turns out, the 7 hour time difference is the perfect way never to be able to get in touch with anyone at home-- when I get up, they're just going to bed; when I get home, they're just getting to work; when they get home from work, I'm going to bed.  Put plainly, it kind of sucks.  New people are great and all, but the old ones are the ones you can most easily go to for support, and when circumstances complicate that, well... at my worst, I feel a little forgotten and abandoned, even though I remind myself constantly that it was always going to be like this, and I just have to deal.  I'm constantly in touch with my parents, which is great, but I find myself more and more missing my friends.

This box made me so happy, though. I kind of don't even want to open them, I just want to sit and look at it and remind myself that of course I'm not forgotten; I still have support from home, things are just a little more complex now.  Which is okay.  Different, but okay.

(And just in time for Orthodox Christmas, too!  What timing!)

(Okay, that's two posts in the past week that kind of make me sound like I only think people like me if they buy me things.  I really promise that that is not true.)

(Okay, and one of these presents is too hilarious not to share:

Hi.Larious.)

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New Year's in Eastern Europe =  a very long weekend.  I put mine to use by doing some cooking, finally!  Up to now, I just hadn't had the time or energy to do much.  By day 3 of this weekend, though, I was rarin' to go.

First, I made a huge batch of dough for naan...

(They sell those Amy's Organic Indian meals in the commissary, but in my opinion, Indian food is totally incomplete without naan.)

(Sorry for the crappy picture quality; my old-ass Blackberry is apparently not a great camera.)

Then, this morning, I got up and made some guacamole... (yes!  you can get avocados in Ukraine in winter!)

Mostly so I could put it on some huevos rancheros:

(I only like eggs scrambled, and they're my huevos rancheros, so I'm allowed to do whatever I want to it.)

And, to finish things off, some gingerbread

I'm officially carbo-loaded for the New Year.

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I had my first Christmas ever away from my family last weekend; I just thought that after only being at post for 6 weeks, going home would be (a) expensive; (b) a lot of vacation time for someone who just got here and (c) make my latent homesickness kick in in a bad, bad way.  So I decided to go spend it with a friend of mine and her husband in Tallinn, instead.  Okay, in truth, I invited myself a year ago, and they were nice enough not to uninvite me.

Anyhow, we had a really good time, and I was feeling pretty happy about things, until I woke up Saturday morning.  I don't know, I just felt kind of... sad and melancholy. Somehow the presents were kind of bothering me.  Not because I'm all about the presents on Christmas; actually, I usually have a pretty hard time coming up with things I want.  But it's just what you do, you know?  My entire life Christmas morning basically consisted of getting up and opening presents with my family, and this year that was just not going to happen.  I had these sad, sad visions of myself sitting around, watching other people being a family and having that experience. 

But.

But.

Three stockings, you guys.  I assumed one of them was for their dog (hey, we do that in my family, okay?)  However.  I had a stocking.  And presents, even.  Because, as it turns out, I have amazing, unbelievable friends.  I'm so incredibly lucky.  That [corny] is the real Christmas gift.[/corny]  

(Cue appropriately cheesy music.)

In other news, Tallinn is my new favourite place on the planet.  Mountains of snow and all-- maybe it's because I lived in Canada for so long, maybe it's because I was a figure skater growing up, maybe it's the Scandinavian in me... but I actually like winter.  And it was really beautiful (and invigoratingly cold!) there:

Must.  Return.  Immediately.

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