Saturday, September 5, 2009
Bustiers and Brides in Odessa
It's been a surreal day in Odessa. We arrived at 6am on our overnight express train. This was my first time traveling in a sleeping car and although I managed to sleep through most of the night, trying to roll over on a bed that's narrower than me without falling off and banging my head on the little table was a gymnastic feat worthy of a gold medal.
After a brief nap, we headed out to explore the city. It's a complete 180 from Kyiv. Here there are very few majestic churches, much more decay evident in the ancient buildings, and the energy is more raw. I likened it to the Corleone of the Ukrainian cities - you can see it's beauty and softness but are always on alert for the wild animal simmering below the surface, ready to pounce at any minute. You're never quite sure of the intentions of those around you and it keeps you on your toes.
Wandering around the main streets and side streets is always a great way to really get a sense of how the city works. You get off the main track where the tourists go and can really see the dark underbelly where the working class lives. We wandered into two such areas today - once when we landed in the docks and once when we stumbled into the back lot of the local market.
We thought the docks would be interesting to explore - as they are in most cities. They looked great from above in the park walkway so we made our way down. Like in Toronto, this part of the city is a maze of tracks, highways, streets, overpasses, and industrial buildings. Quickly upon entering the dock area we realized that it is a government controlled zone (and they have dogs), so we made our way out of there. Luckily for me, the streets around there had many industrial buildings full of rusty crusty photographic goodies that I could capture.
The market zone was another strange anomaly. The market itself was just massive - rambling on and on and on - with stall after stall just full of junk from jeans to cell phones. We really thought we were never going to get out of the maze of garbage when we finally found a way through. We ended up in this strange and glorious back section that was part underground market, part slum. Ramshackle stalls lined one side and contained everything from pipes to housewares while the other side of the street was lined with derelict homes. Dividing the two were several tracks for the electric trams to run on, which competed with trucks and cars for the road. And all around were people - so many people walking back and forth in front of trams, through the market, and along the street. It was surreal. I felt like I was no longer in the world class city that I had arrived in just hours before.
To juxtapose the morning, we then ran into the weirdest sight I will ever see. As we left the market area we made our way to the Opera House were there were at least 40 brides, grooms, bridesmaids and best men, all with mothers and photographers in tow all throughout the garden and around the fountain. At one point, there were 4 different brides having their photos taken around the fountain with their husbands (to be?) - each in a different pose - competing for that perfect spot. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting a bride in that space. We just couldn't figure it out: Was it a special day for weddings in the city that happened every year? Did a cruise ship come in full of men wanting a Ukrainian bride and they were all lined up, dressed in gowns, waiting at the bottom of the gangplank and ready for the picking? Is it a mass wedding and should I be worried about them all drinking the cool-aid at the end of the day? It was surreal. I'm not even getting into some of those dresses - let's just say that Odessa is the land of plenty, and they're not afraid to show it.
We never did make it to the beach no matter how hard we tried to get there - always seemed to be some sort of obstacle in the way. Instead, we're going to go and try the Black Sea sushi tonight.
After a brief nap, we headed out to explore the city. It's a complete 180 from Kyiv. Here there are very few majestic churches, much more decay evident in the ancient buildings, and the energy is more raw. I likened it to the Corleone of the Ukrainian cities - you can see it's beauty and softness but are always on alert for the wild animal simmering below the surface, ready to pounce at any minute. You're never quite sure of the intentions of those around you and it keeps you on your toes.
Wandering around the main streets and side streets is always a great way to really get a sense of how the city works. You get off the main track where the tourists go and can really see the dark underbelly where the working class lives. We wandered into two such areas today - once when we landed in the docks and once when we stumbled into the back lot of the local market.
We thought the docks would be interesting to explore - as they are in most cities. They looked great from above in the park walkway so we made our way down. Like in Toronto, this part of the city is a maze of tracks, highways, streets, overpasses, and industrial buildings. Quickly upon entering the dock area we realized that it is a government controlled zone (and they have dogs), so we made our way out of there. Luckily for me, the streets around there had many industrial buildings full of rusty crusty photographic goodies that I could capture.
The market zone was another strange anomaly. The market itself was just massive - rambling on and on and on - with stall after stall just full of junk from jeans to cell phones. We really thought we were never going to get out of the maze of garbage when we finally found a way through. We ended up in this strange and glorious back section that was part underground market, part slum. Ramshackle stalls lined one side and contained everything from pipes to housewares while the other side of the street was lined with derelict homes. Dividing the two were several tracks for the electric trams to run on, which competed with trucks and cars for the road. And all around were people - so many people walking back and forth in front of trams, through the market, and along the street. It was surreal. I felt like I was no longer in the world class city that I had arrived in just hours before.
To juxtapose the morning, we then ran into the weirdest sight I will ever see. As we left the market area we made our way to the Opera House were there were at least 40 brides, grooms, bridesmaids and best men, all with mothers and photographers in tow all throughout the garden and around the fountain. At one point, there were 4 different brides having their photos taken around the fountain with their husbands (to be?) - each in a different pose - competing for that perfect spot. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting a bride in that space. We just couldn't figure it out: Was it a special day for weddings in the city that happened every year? Did a cruise ship come in full of men wanting a Ukrainian bride and they were all lined up, dressed in gowns, waiting at the bottom of the gangplank and ready for the picking? Is it a mass wedding and should I be worried about them all drinking the cool-aid at the end of the day? It was surreal. I'm not even getting into some of those dresses - let's just say that Odessa is the land of plenty, and they're not afraid to show it.
We never did make it to the beach no matter how hard we tried to get there - always seemed to be some sort of obstacle in the way. Instead, we're going to go and try the Black Sea sushi tonight.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Journey by Train
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Village People
(posted late due to no internet in Chernobyl)
On our second day in the Zone, we travelled to the village of Opichi (sp?), 25 km south of the main disaster area. All the local here had been evacuated after the disaster and were not allowed back as this was considered a "dirty" area. About 1300 people - mostly elderly - returned to their homes in the small villages that dot the countryside.
Today there are about 130 of these villagers remaining - mostly in their 80s - as the rest have dies. These last few settlers have been referred to by the media and the government as "squatters" although they have resettled their own land and gone back to their own homes.
They have become self-sufficientm growing vegetables and keeping livestock as they have no real support system other than a truck that comes by to refill gas tanks and a monthly bus that will take them to Chernobyl for supplies.
Those we spoke to would not want to leave. Even living alone as widows they kept pristing homes, built by their own hands, and had beautiful prosperous gardens full of sunflowers and vegetables such as potatoes, cabbage, beets, and corn. They even produced their own vodka - and it was potent! After three homes and 4 shots, I was definitely feeling the effects.
This immersion into the Ukrainian peasant life and meeting these wonderful strong women helped to to understand where the women in my family get their independent streak. As I listened to them recount the stories of living through the Holodomor - the famine of 1932-33 - the Russian and German occupations, the nuclear disaster, losing their homes and then returning against the rules of the government, I could see in their eyes and hear in the tone of their voices that these were women who would not be told what they could or could not do.
Valentyna - 74 years old
The first of our three visits was to Valentyna, a widow who lived in the home that she and her late husband had built. Her garden was beautiful, full of large blooming flowers of all colour and shape and vegetables of all sorts. She was self-sufficient mostly and she was very proud of what she had. Petite, at just about 5 feet tall, this powerhouse of a woman kept her farmhouse completely spotless even though she walked using a crutch under one arm. Even at her age, she distilled her own vodka using her own berries and lots of sugar. She invited us all to shots and white melon from her garden.
Maria - 87 years old
On the way to our second house, we spotted Maria walking down the road, chasing the local cats with a switch. She had her mud boots on, a skirt to the knee, white sweater, and bright yellow kerchief with red flowers. The image was how I had pictured a farm babushka would look like. She was very happy to have visitors and invited us into her home. Hand-built, like Valentyna's, this one was two rooms and also included a full stove that worked as an oven, food dryer, and house heater. We all sat in her living room and listened as my father asked her about her childhood growing up during the wars. She loved to share her stories and it was a highlight of our trip out to the country. She was also very proud to show off her 80th birthday gifts - a new TV and cellphone.
Olga - 82 years old
Our last stop was at the home of a very gracious hostess who had the most beautiful embroidery collection - all her own. Although she's now 82 years old, she still embroiders pillows, table runners, and pictures and these are all over her one room house - again hand-built. We tasted some tomatoes form her garden which were so delicious and of course had some vodka - this time bottled and really strong. Her garden has beautiful tall sunflowers and she had some rambunctious chickens in the coop out back. Of course, each of the ladies had cats - there's always cats.
We had come out to visit these women, bringing each a bag of supplies such as pasta, milk, cookies, and juice. A gift of thanks for their time with use, allowing us into their homes and to take photos of their lives, and also to help them out as they are so isolated. The road to this one village was quite a ways out and was one that I would never have thought of driving on. It looked as if it hadn't been used in years. This was an experience that I never forget.
On our second day in the Zone, we travelled to the village of Opichi (sp?), 25 km south of the main disaster area. All the local here had been evacuated after the disaster and were not allowed back as this was considered a "dirty" area. About 1300 people - mostly elderly - returned to their homes in the small villages that dot the countryside.
Today there are about 130 of these villagers remaining - mostly in their 80s - as the rest have dies. These last few settlers have been referred to by the media and the government as "squatters" although they have resettled their own land and gone back to their own homes.
They have become self-sufficientm growing vegetables and keeping livestock as they have no real support system other than a truck that comes by to refill gas tanks and a monthly bus that will take them to Chernobyl for supplies.
Those we spoke to would not want to leave. Even living alone as widows they kept pristing homes, built by their own hands, and had beautiful prosperous gardens full of sunflowers and vegetables such as potatoes, cabbage, beets, and corn. They even produced their own vodka - and it was potent! After three homes and 4 shots, I was definitely feeling the effects.
This immersion into the Ukrainian peasant life and meeting these wonderful strong women helped to to understand where the women in my family get their independent streak. As I listened to them recount the stories of living through the Holodomor - the famine of 1932-33 - the Russian and German occupations, the nuclear disaster, losing their homes and then returning against the rules of the government, I could see in their eyes and hear in the tone of their voices that these were women who would not be told what they could or could not do.
Valentyna - 74 years old
The first of our three visits was to Valentyna, a widow who lived in the home that she and her late husband had built. Her garden was beautiful, full of large blooming flowers of all colour and shape and vegetables of all sorts. She was self-sufficient mostly and she was very proud of what she had. Petite, at just about 5 feet tall, this powerhouse of a woman kept her farmhouse completely spotless even though she walked using a crutch under one arm. Even at her age, she distilled her own vodka using her own berries and lots of sugar. She invited us all to shots and white melon from her garden.
Maria - 87 years old
On the way to our second house, we spotted Maria walking down the road, chasing the local cats with a switch. She had her mud boots on, a skirt to the knee, white sweater, and bright yellow kerchief with red flowers. The image was how I had pictured a farm babushka would look like. She was very happy to have visitors and invited us into her home. Hand-built, like Valentyna's, this one was two rooms and also included a full stove that worked as an oven, food dryer, and house heater. We all sat in her living room and listened as my father asked her about her childhood growing up during the wars. She loved to share her stories and it was a highlight of our trip out to the country. She was also very proud to show off her 80th birthday gifts - a new TV and cellphone.
Olga - 82 years old
Our last stop was at the home of a very gracious hostess who had the most beautiful embroidery collection - all her own. Although she's now 82 years old, she still embroiders pillows, table runners, and pictures and these are all over her one room house - again hand-built. We tasted some tomatoes form her garden which were so delicious and of course had some vodka - this time bottled and really strong. Her garden has beautiful tall sunflowers and she had some rambunctious chickens in the coop out back. Of course, each of the ladies had cats - there's always cats.
We had come out to visit these women, bringing each a bag of supplies such as pasta, milk, cookies, and juice. A gift of thanks for their time with use, allowing us into their homes and to take photos of their lives, and also to help them out as they are so isolated. The road to this one village was quite a ways out and was one that I would never have thought of driving on. It looked as if it hadn't been used in years. This was an experience that I never forget.
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