I have finally learned my lesson, after the third time. Don't eat the black mushrooms. Or really any mushrooms, expect for the little white ones which we also have in America. They just mess me up and make me really sick.
The first time, my host family served me soup with mushrooms. I got violently sick four hours later and threw up for an hour and a half. It was the second worst pain I've ever been in, after my appendicitis. My host dad was worried and called the first volunteer that he had ever hosted. I was the third. She asked if I was fine, and I was; after there's nothing left in the stomach there is no pain. So I cleaned the floor where I had vomited on my way to the bathroom and went to bed. Next morning I woke up, went to orchestra, planned some lessons, then came home and did some laundry. The next day my language teacher informed me that my host family thinks I have been doing drugs. Because I didn't call the doctor I must be hiding something, and because they also ate the mushrooms it couldn't have been the mushrooms, and because food poisoning takes six hours to set in, not four, and because I was throwing up for three hours, not an hour and a half, and because of some other reasons I can't remember or that weren't translated for me, they didn't trust me with their two teenage children. I was evicted from my host family. Luckily Lyoodmilla took me in, the best person in the whole village. It was really a wonderful month that I spent with her. I didn't realize how much a host mom could love a complete stranger. She fed me constantly and gave me privacy when I needed it. She gave me three sweaters from her dacha and a very warm winter coat. She also thought that I must be a "good young man" because I played in the orchestra, which her sister's husband directs. I never thought I would miss playing in band so much. In high school, it was just a class, although jazz band was exciting when we finally came together to really get a song down. Cal Band was full of energy and life, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made to join; but we rehearsed two hours everyday and at the end of the season was quite a drain. And now having played in the ten-sixteen person brass band, depending on how many men from the village didn't have work or something else to do, and consisting mostly of school boys, I, for the first time in my life, truly enjoy going to rehearsal. This marks me as not the most dedicated musician, but it is what it is. Thank you Korzhi orchestra. I am coming back for Victory Day on May 9th to play with them. I am not sure who is more excited. We do not celebrate Victory Day here in Lviv Region. Instead we remember all of the lives lost during the war.
The second time I was at my counterparts house eating Holy Supper the night before Christmas. This meal is vegan, except for the two or three fish dishes, which are not considered meat. They had some of those tasty, slippery, marinated black mushrooms, and I ate three of them. I didn't actually throw up that night when I got home, I just felt really queasy and I didn't sleep very well. Also the toilet was outside, and it took me a good minute to get from my room to there. So I just kept it down for some reason, drinking carbonated water, not the best choice, but the only kind I had. We are told by Peace Corps not to drink tap water unless it comes from a well. Heavy metals and possible radiation from Chernobyl. That was a rough first month here at my permanent site. I was living with Pani Ira, a 72 year old lady who was nice enough, but she was never married and doesn't have any kids. I think my living with her was too much of a disruption from her normal routine, although I tried to minimize my presence as much as possible. "Living the dream" is what I told myself everyday that month. Plus the sun set at about 4:30 everyday and the average temperature was about -10C, which is 14F. But now I am living alone in a house that one of the geography teachers at my school owns. She and her husband are the best landlords ever. Not being hyperbolic. My very first night in my new house I broke the kolonka, the water heater where some kind of angry jinn spirit lives that must be kept happy. Water was gushing everywhere and I didn't know where the shut off switch was. I ran outside and knocked on my neighbors' door and said "I have a problem. Come please". Like in their house, the switch is in the corner, so they shut the water off. That night I took another bucket bath. I hadn't showered in about 5 days, since my bathing area in Pani Ira's house was the kitchen in the little basin where I washed my hands. I was so much looking forward to the running, hot water at my new house. I called my land lady and told her "the kolonka is not working, and water came from it". The next day she and her husband stayed to fix it and help clean up for six solid hours. I was amazed. Roman, her husband, took apart the whole thing and put it back together. I was so amazed by their generosity with their time that I asked that "You will be 'hosti' this week? Friday or Saturday?" Roman asked Lesa, his wife, and they said the next day at six pm. See 'hosti' means both host and guest. The next day, Tuesday, I taught my two lessons then went to the bazar to buy chicken, potatoes, carrots, cookies, and whatever else I needed to make dinner that night. I made chicken soup, chicken stir fry, mashed potatoes, cabbage salad, and put out pickles. Six o'clock rolled by, which is fine because Ukrainians are usually late to things. Then 6:30, 7, 7:30 passed and finally Roman called me. He told me to go to the bus station and he will meet me there. I said ok, but then confirmed that they were coming to my house. "What? No, of course not, you are coming over here!" "No, no, I wanted you to come here!" "Oh, well we will do that another time. See you in 15 minutes." Great, I invited myself over for dinner. Wonderful. So I bought some tangerines and came over. You are never supposed to go to someone's house empty-handed. And of course, it happened to be Old Holy Supper. There are two calendars in Ukraine, the modern one and the old one. So we celebrate each holiday twice. Their whole family was there and I felt awkward for a few minutes, then realized that I was already there and might as well try to talk as much as I can. I am talking to people more. This might seem ridiculous, but I really try. It was a very nice dinner, and I knew most of the dishes and could talk about them since I had eaten Holy Supper once before with my counterpart. So the next day at school, I went to my land lady and say "Will you be 'hosti' today, at my house?" She laughed and said ok. Those two small words 'do mene', at my house... I learned to always clarify everything. Always. And even then be prepared to not have fully understood everything.
And last night was the third time. There is this girl named Iryna in my town who speaks great English. Her mother, Halyna, works in the Methodological Office in our town Educational Center. I've been friends with Iryna for about three weeks. We mostly talk over tea at a cafe. She really wants to practice her English, and it's nice for me to have a friend my own age. She told her mom how much I liked fried fish, so they invited me over for dinner. It was delicious. Fried fish, stewed fish, cabbage salad, varenyky with sour cabbage, and these little empanada-like fried tasty things, filled with sauteed black mushrooms. I knew they were bad for me, but I only ate three, thinking that it would be fine. Sure enough, about four hours later, I felt that familiar pain in my stomach. Details aren't necessary, but I threw up three times. Her mom was so worried she wanted to call the ambulance. But I told her it would be fine, I just needed to get rid of it. She made mint tea and gave me active carbon pills to take, which would absorb the toxins. She insisted that I stay the night. My house is about 3 km from hers, and she didn't want me to stay alone if I was sick. She made up the couch for me and told me to get her or Ira if I felt sick. Ira was generally concerned, but she doesn't have that "mother's concern" yet. She will get it when she becomes a mother. It's both comforting and a little bothersome, if that is possible. This morning I was completely better, and Halyna made me fried eggs for breakfast. And, of course, she gave me varenyky, salad, fish, compote, and pickles to take home. Her parents were driving to the bazar, so they dropped me off on their way there.
The first time, my host family served me soup with mushrooms. I got violently sick four hours later and threw up for an hour and a half. It was the second worst pain I've ever been in, after my appendicitis. My host dad was worried and called the first volunteer that he had ever hosted. I was the third. She asked if I was fine, and I was; after there's nothing left in the stomach there is no pain. So I cleaned the floor where I had vomited on my way to the bathroom and went to bed. Next morning I woke up, went to orchestra, planned some lessons, then came home and did some laundry. The next day my language teacher informed me that my host family thinks I have been doing drugs. Because I didn't call the doctor I must be hiding something, and because they also ate the mushrooms it couldn't have been the mushrooms, and because food poisoning takes six hours to set in, not four, and because I was throwing up for three hours, not an hour and a half, and because of some other reasons I can't remember or that weren't translated for me, they didn't trust me with their two teenage children. I was evicted from my host family. Luckily Lyoodmilla took me in, the best person in the whole village. It was really a wonderful month that I spent with her. I didn't realize how much a host mom could love a complete stranger. She fed me constantly and gave me privacy when I needed it. She gave me three sweaters from her dacha and a very warm winter coat. She also thought that I must be a "good young man" because I played in the orchestra, which her sister's husband directs. I never thought I would miss playing in band so much. In high school, it was just a class, although jazz band was exciting when we finally came together to really get a song down. Cal Band was full of energy and life, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made to join; but we rehearsed two hours everyday and at the end of the season was quite a drain. And now having played in the ten-sixteen person brass band, depending on how many men from the village didn't have work or something else to do, and consisting mostly of school boys, I, for the first time in my life, truly enjoy going to rehearsal. This marks me as not the most dedicated musician, but it is what it is. Thank you Korzhi orchestra. I am coming back for Victory Day on May 9th to play with them. I am not sure who is more excited. We do not celebrate Victory Day here in Lviv Region. Instead we remember all of the lives lost during the war.
The second time I was at my counterparts house eating Holy Supper the night before Christmas. This meal is vegan, except for the two or three fish dishes, which are not considered meat. They had some of those tasty, slippery, marinated black mushrooms, and I ate three of them. I didn't actually throw up that night when I got home, I just felt really queasy and I didn't sleep very well. Also the toilet was outside, and it took me a good minute to get from my room to there. So I just kept it down for some reason, drinking carbonated water, not the best choice, but the only kind I had. We are told by Peace Corps not to drink tap water unless it comes from a well. Heavy metals and possible radiation from Chernobyl. That was a rough first month here at my permanent site. I was living with Pani Ira, a 72 year old lady who was nice enough, but she was never married and doesn't have any kids. I think my living with her was too much of a disruption from her normal routine, although I tried to minimize my presence as much as possible. "Living the dream" is what I told myself everyday that month. Plus the sun set at about 4:30 everyday and the average temperature was about -10C, which is 14F. But now I am living alone in a house that one of the geography teachers at my school owns. She and her husband are the best landlords ever. Not being hyperbolic. My very first night in my new house I broke the kolonka, the water heater where some kind of angry jinn spirit lives that must be kept happy. Water was gushing everywhere and I didn't know where the shut off switch was. I ran outside and knocked on my neighbors' door and said "I have a problem. Come please". Like in their house, the switch is in the corner, so they shut the water off. That night I took another bucket bath. I hadn't showered in about 5 days, since my bathing area in Pani Ira's house was the kitchen in the little basin where I washed my hands. I was so much looking forward to the running, hot water at my new house. I called my land lady and told her "the kolonka is not working, and water came from it". The next day she and her husband stayed to fix it and help clean up for six solid hours. I was amazed. Roman, her husband, took apart the whole thing and put it back together. I was so amazed by their generosity with their time that I asked that "You will be 'hosti' this week? Friday or Saturday?" Roman asked Lesa, his wife, and they said the next day at six pm. See 'hosti' means both host and guest. The next day, Tuesday, I taught my two lessons then went to the bazar to buy chicken, potatoes, carrots, cookies, and whatever else I needed to make dinner that night. I made chicken soup, chicken stir fry, mashed potatoes, cabbage salad, and put out pickles. Six o'clock rolled by, which is fine because Ukrainians are usually late to things. Then 6:30, 7, 7:30 passed and finally Roman called me. He told me to go to the bus station and he will meet me there. I said ok, but then confirmed that they were coming to my house. "What? No, of course not, you are coming over here!" "No, no, I wanted you to come here!" "Oh, well we will do that another time. See you in 15 minutes." Great, I invited myself over for dinner. Wonderful. So I bought some tangerines and came over. You are never supposed to go to someone's house empty-handed. And of course, it happened to be Old Holy Supper. There are two calendars in Ukraine, the modern one and the old one. So we celebrate each holiday twice. Their whole family was there and I felt awkward for a few minutes, then realized that I was already there and might as well try to talk as much as I can. I am talking to people more. This might seem ridiculous, but I really try. It was a very nice dinner, and I knew most of the dishes and could talk about them since I had eaten Holy Supper once before with my counterpart. So the next day at school, I went to my land lady and say "Will you be 'hosti' today, at my house?" She laughed and said ok. Those two small words 'do mene', at my house... I learned to always clarify everything. Always. And even then be prepared to not have fully understood everything.
And last night was the third time. There is this girl named Iryna in my town who speaks great English. Her mother, Halyna, works in the Methodological Office in our town Educational Center. I've been friends with Iryna for about three weeks. We mostly talk over tea at a cafe. She really wants to practice her English, and it's nice for me to have a friend my own age. She told her mom how much I liked fried fish, so they invited me over for dinner. It was delicious. Fried fish, stewed fish, cabbage salad, varenyky with sour cabbage, and these little empanada-like fried tasty things, filled with sauteed black mushrooms. I knew they were bad for me, but I only ate three, thinking that it would be fine. Sure enough, about four hours later, I felt that familiar pain in my stomach. Details aren't necessary, but I threw up three times. Her mom was so worried she wanted to call the ambulance. But I told her it would be fine, I just needed to get rid of it. She made mint tea and gave me active carbon pills to take, which would absorb the toxins. She insisted that I stay the night. My house is about 3 km from hers, and she didn't want me to stay alone if I was sick. She made up the couch for me and told me to get her or Ira if I felt sick. Ira was generally concerned, but she doesn't have that "mother's concern" yet. She will get it when she becomes a mother. It's both comforting and a little bothersome, if that is possible. This morning I was completely better, and Halyna made me fried eggs for breakfast. And, of course, she gave me varenyky, salad, fish, compote, and pickles to take home. Her parents were driving to the bazar, so they dropped me off on their way there.
Three times I've eaten black mushrooms, three times I've been sick. Never again, not even to taste it. But each time there was an amazing woman to help me through it. The women I've met in this country are incredible, always so generous with me as if I were their own son. Today is Women's Day in Ukraine and around the world. It is difficult to be a women today. I know it is nothing compared to a hundred or even fifty years ago, but we have not yet reached equality. About 90% of the teachers at my school are women. They also perform most of the domestic duties around the house. So thank you women. For raising your families. For taking care of us men. For worrying. For nagging. For cooking. For caring. For holding society together. It is a difficult, sometimes thankless task, except for special days like today. I was not born female, so I can never really understand what it is like. But I can try, and I can empathize. And I can try to get other men to understand the important role you play in all of our lives.
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