The Life and Times of Dnipropetrovsk- Part 1

Disclaimer: As the title suggests, this will be the first of a series of posts focused on my daily life here and experiences of a commonplace nature. This post is unfortunately not picture-heavy, but I've tried to spice it up with a fair amount of wit and clever allusions. Stay tuned for more. *Coming attractions at the end of the post

Marshrutka Madness

Marshrutkas are a Slavic phenomenon that Western countries should either greatly envy, or avoid at all costs. They are bus-taxi hybrids, so essentially minibuses. Ones in other cities have designated stops, but I hear the ones in Dnipropetrovsk are enviable/interesting because you can flag one down anywhere and ask the driver to stop anywhere along the predetermined route (after paying a fee of less than $0.50 [USD]). Early on, my interactions with marshrutkas had been nothing but positive, mainly because I tended to walk. However, after recent changes in my schedule combined with my inability to wake up in a timely matter, I have found myself engaged in the morning rush hour marshrutka battle. My apartment is unfortunately located past the point along the embankment after which just about 100% of marshrutkas become full. I have found myself in the brisk morning temperatures waiting for upwards of 40 minutes, hopelessly attempting to hail full marshrutkas along with my neighbors. Most of the drivers, at this point smushed against the windows themselves from the packed vehicle, just shake their heads and shrug their shoulders and zoom by us. Yes, they are also notorious for their reckless, yet still effective and efficient, driving. Luckily for me, but unluckily for the passengers already in the marshrutka, if the driver believes more people can fit, he will pull over, and like it or not, desperate commuters such as myself are getting in. In your typical marshrutka there are about 20 seats. Before, during, and after rush hour, the seats tend to be full, so I often find myself standing. This is frustrating additionally because the height of the vehicles are almost always just under my height, so I have to deal with an awkward head bend. I can’t comfortably hunch or stand up. Back to rush hour, since no one is able to move, we helplessly and trustfully hand our fares to the next person hoping it gets to the driver. If you need change, it usually remarkably makes its way back to you. I don’t have any pictures of this scenario because blinking is literally the only motion I can manage other than squeezing my fare through to the next person. Although I take all the necessary precautions, I find that pickpocketing (something I’ve been warned about repeatedly here) is likewise an impossible task in these situations.

As a former student of Boston College and a lover of seafood, three spaces have come to mind that offer more comfort than rush hour marshrutkas:

1)    The T (Boston metro system) after a Sox game

2)    The Newton Bus before 10 a.m. classes (shout out to freshman-year Newtonians)

3)    A can of sardines (inspired by my lunch)

Dear Self,

Get out of bed and commit to the walk.

Sincerely,
Sardine Brian

Positively Perilous Pirozhki 

Occasionally my department has little gatherings with food to celebrate something for someone. For example, the other week we celebrated someone’s son getting married. Have I even met this son? No. But it doesn’t matter. We are a family.

So a typical Slavic dish is pirozhok, which is essentially a Slavic hot pocket. They are a little rounder and smaller and baked (possibly fried). But most importantly, they have a filling, usually meat or sauerkraut. But the fun/risk of this treat is the mystery filling. I am one of the most adventurous eaters you will ever meet (a trait I attribute to mom). Dad and Chris are plagued with a slew of allergies and tend to be a bit more let’s say, selective, in their food choices. Therefore, pirozhki play perfectly into my eating point of view. There are no foods I refuse to eat. Baby corn creeps me out, brussel sprouts are a challenge to eat, and toasted coconut has a dreadful texture, but I have no outstanding problems with them. Another controversial food that my mom enjoys is calf's liver. While I can say with confidence that I do not like it nearly as much as she does, or at all really, I have been known to eat it if I must. Liverwurst and pate on the contrary are most delicious. However, a few weeks ago I bit into a pirozhok with one of the most bitter, just utterly dreadful liver fillings I have ever tasted. Words are really failing me here. I don’t even think my mom would have been able to eat it. The worst part was that it was like a crescendo of flavor. As I swallowed it, the spread just covered my tongue and got worse and worse and I could barely move or even think. Since I have such a diverse (albeit not sensitive) pallet, I am also gifted with quite the poker face when it comes to this kind of thing. The only obvious part was the pirozhok with one (unfortunately large) bite taken out of it just sitting on my plate. I am all for suffering to make other people feel good, but I was not about to take another bite of that. The taste just lingered and lingered and I had some of every remaining dish, which luckily eventually cleansed the pallet. It was terrifying.

No hard feeling with Mr. Pirozhok, but I’ll admit that my first bites will certainly be smaller from now on. From now on I will treat a tray/platter of pirozhki like a game of minesweeper.

Sorry, no pictures of the food. If food looks good enough to photograph, I’ve probably eaten it already. Don’t bother with the camera.  

Cross Country Homecoming

For the first time since high school I competed in a cross-country race. Who would have thought it would be in Ukraine. I casually stumbled upon a Dnipropetrovsk running group on Slavic Facebook and reached out to the organizer. By pure chance, they were organizing an xc-style race and, although I hadn’t put in the proper training, I couldn’t resist. The stars aligned too perfectly for my runner’s spirit. The race was interestingly divided by gender in terms of distance. The men raced 13.5 km while the women raced 6.75 km. Only about 40 people (mostly men) participated. However, a lot of top running club’s from around Ukraine were represented. Naturally I was racing against some very serious marathoners and some amateurs. I didn’t take too much stock in racing too hard, mostly because I was sick the week before. I lost my voice for a few days, not completely, but it was a struggle. It’s especially difficult when speaking is one’s most valuable tool in an English language classroom. My students got a kick out of it though. I was compared to the Godfather at one point. Nonetheless, the race was fantastic. I traveled to the other bank of the river, which was an adventure, did a light warm up, and raced well. The course was just about completely flat, but some of the sharp turns and slippery leaves proved tricky to navigate. Nothing beats running in the fall. The cold weather broke for this weekend and it was perfect for running. I miss my daily trails along the Newton hills and Comm Ave. Shout out to my BC running buddies.

Gotta love that end-of-fall XC atmosphere

Out-of-shape, poor form; still ran
decently though!

Superb Ukie Running Uniform

Although we only had 40 runners, both the young and the old
were well represented. What a trouper.

I also learned just how small the world is. I was seeking out a car, in which I could store my belongings, and one of the people in the car had a shirt from, you guessed it, the Chicago Marathon! She had just run Chicago a few weeks ago and one of her friends recently qualified for Boston during the race. They also had a friend who ran New York the week before. We had fun discussing all the sights they saw. Running really does bring the world together. They were even planning on running in Istanbul the following week. I believe they were all part of a marathon club/team based in Kyiv.

This group was in the USA a couple of weeks earlier conquering
the Chicago and NYC marathons

There was a small registration fee, but it was well worth it for the actual race and for what followed. After the race and awards ceremony concluded, we had a Ukrainian barbecue. There were kebabs, mushrooms, kasha (sort of like oatmeal), tea, and tons of other stuff. I’ll never get tired of Ukrainian hospitality, whether at work, at home, or in the great outdoors after an xc race.

Note: photo credit to event organizers, (we already know my feelings about food photography)

The kasha

 The mushrooms

The kebabs

Ever since I was little, I always had a pretty strong sense of the local running community. Through pictures, I always understood that my father was part of the original running movement (aka before running was cool). To date, he’s run around 25 NYC marathons since the race began in the 70s and has no intention of slowing down. He has ambitions to qualify for the Boston Marathon (a challenge any diehard runner knows is no small undertaking) in the near future. As those qualifying times rise with his rising age category, he is nothing but optimistic! Since he has all but memorized the NYC and LI marathon courses, it’s only a matter of time. I digress. My point is that the running scene in Ukraine is very much like I would imagine it was during the 70s for my father in NYC. People on the street are a little caught off guard when they see some maniac running in the cold weather. My BC running pals also know that I often refuse to wear long pants, no matter how cold it is. I distinctly remember multiple instances of pushing cars in those brutal New England snowstorms in shorts and low-cut socks. I haven’t been brave enough to exercise that habit here at the risk of being accosted by a Ukrainian babushka. We shall see. Yet again, I digress. My favorite part of the race was that there were 40 committed runners and family members (shout out to runner supporters who know the drill with xc races and track meets) and it was quite minimalistic but familial. I fear running in the USA is becoming more and more commercialized. Nonetheless, I look forward to running with these diehards even more.

The gang

Photo credit: event organizers

Next time,

(А) Some of my students and our English Drama Theater 

(Б) My department's 80th anniversary festivities (I gave a mini speech in Russian and Ukrainian, stay tuned for that story)

(В) Bandura lessons (Google it if you want, or wait until my post for the surprise)

(Г) Plenty more