Going from living in New Albany to living in Odessa, Ukraine, is quite an adjustment.
We arrived in the suburbs and were shown our rooms, warned that we must not “make tragedy” on the steep stairs up to our bunk beds.
We began asking Maxym questions about our stay there, his plans for the month and other such things. He shrugged, grinned nervously and said, “don’t worry, be happy.”
This began a month of Ukraine for my team and me. Because we weren’t living in a cushy hotel and had to take public transportation everywhere and scrounge out our own food, we learned quite a bit about the Black Sea coastal city.
The streets are filled with people wearing ‘80s fashion, mullets — both men and women alike — and blank expressions. The people of Ukraine, as we discovered, tend to keep to themselves and go about their own business. When a group of joking and oddly dressed Americans come trundling through the city, we gathered some stares.
My friend, Carrie, and I tried to buy some clothes that would help us fit in with the Ukrainian crowd. I bought a bright blue romper outfit and Carrie bought a pair of bright pink hammer pants. We immediately felt a little more at home.
Russia still has a lease on the country of Ukraine. Odessa as a city is growing and developing its own personality as it can, but there is still a Russian cloud over everything.
Russian is the most commonly used language, rather than Ukrainian, despite the fact that the president of Ukraine made a mandate that only Ukrainian be used in the public schools.
Even though some people have moved on from the Cold War in the ‘80s, many still live in the old Soviet Block houses that fill the city.
The older generations didn’t much like to hear us speaking English in public places, we had to try to learn as much Russian as we could. There still seemed to be a lot of tension toward America in this region of Ukraine.
Once you take a tram far enough into the city, you get past many of the Soviet architecture and you find yourself in a quaint coastal square. The architecture seems to be under great Mediterranean influence.
In the center of the city is a large park with fountains, open-air markets where you can buy Russian nesting dolls or other souvenirs, gelato stands, pony rides, and a huge Eastern Orthodox Church.
In the shadow of this looming church, a young man in his 20s was feeding humongous flock of pigeons.
He invited us to join in, holding our hands out full of seed and holding very still while the birds would fly up and perch on our arms to eat the seed.
Down a little further is a square where we sat and ate some Eastern European food. Most of us tried shaurma, which is a popular street food in the area, derived from a Middle Eastern dish. Shaurma’s are a wrap sandwich with pickles, lamb, beef or chicken, tomatoes, sauce and often French fries served inside the sandwich instead of on the side.
It’s a delicious meal, though when we told our hosts we had eaten shaurmas they laughed and told us a local saying: “If you eat three shaurmas, you get the whole dog.” This steered me clear of future shaurmas, though it didn’t daunt many of my teammates.
A stroll further down Odessa’s streets takes you to the Black Sea Coast, where the beautiful Odessa Opera House is located, as well as a huge flight of steps into the harbor.
We spent a little bit of time on the coast, enjoying the view of the city and the sea, and then headed back.
Later that weekend, our translator, Anna, took us to the Black Sea at night.
This was my favorite part of our time in Ukraine.
The water on the Black Sea is fairly warm this time of year, the waves are calmer than on an ocean coast, and, at night, everything has an eerie air.
Overall, I was struck by the quirky and almost stubborn vibe the city of Odessa seemed to set off.
From its stone buildings to the bottom of the underground catacomb system, Odessa seems to be fighting for its own personality and place in Ukraine and Eastern Europe.
Editor’s note: This is part one of a three-part series by Michele Hop. She traveled overseas this past summer and wrote about her experiences for The Horizon.
By MICHELE HOP
Staff
mhop@ius.edu