Luckily last weekend I was looking through the sale racks at Zara and the first dress I saw I fell in love with. I already have leggings to go under it and of course I am going to be rocking it with my red cowboy boots. (For those of you who are not aware those are by far my favorite boots ever and they go with everything.) Now I just needed a jacket or cardigan to go over it.
On Wednesday I decided to check out the second hand shops to find the perfect thing to match. I set off on another balmy day towards the street that has a bunch of second hand shops on it. Ice had formed in patches on the sidewalk, covered by a layer of that gosh darn cold mash potato snow and most of my walk was up hill and took probably twice as long as it would in the summer. I stopped part way up the hill to take photos of a children’s play ground. I am drawn to places like this as my mother runs a day care in our home, so its just engrained in me to take a gander. Its a really good thing that I was born a girl not a creepy looking guy, or people might question my motives for lurking around such places.
The park has different brightly painted animals that are used as the bases for the playground equipment. I am sure that back in the day these looked amazing, there are little pieces of tile that have been painstakingly applied, probably by hand, to each creature. Or real animals were covered in concrete and then forced rolled around in a bunch of chicklets. My bet’s on the last one. These things are pretty life like.
There were a few children playing on the playground, which was refreshing to see as some of my fellow ex-pats and I joke that they keep the kids here locked up and don’t let them outside. Honestly though it has gotten to the point that when I see a child, its like seeing some mythical beast. I think some of the real reason I don’t see that many children is that I am living in the center of a city and young families tend to not live here for a number of reasons, the biggest on probably being the cost of living. The other reason is that less and less people in Ukraine are reproducing. The government here has started giving out incentives to have babies. For your first child you get 20,000 UAH (a little over $2,500) which is a lot considering that the average year salary in Ukraine is under $10,000. Also when you have more children the money they give you goes up, like for the second child it is 30,000 UAH I believe.
I finished up taking pictures in the park and went back to my mission of finding something to go over the dress. I walked into one store thinking that it was a second hand store and looked one of the price tags and it said 400UAH ($50.00) for a sweater. I turned around and walked out and closed the door and then started laughing. Clearly not the place I was going for. I found a shop that looked more promising, and went in and started looking at the dresses. (I tend to wear them at one of my jobs a lot so if I can find some for really cheep I am game.) I came across an old Gap dress from 2004 and it made me smile for some reason. Ok so maybe I do miss my job there a little bit, or a lot, but I won’t admit it to them. Crap I think I just did. The shop was pretty full of people and I didn’t really feel like scouring racks looking for this piece of clothing that was in my mind and would most likely never find.
I went back out and continued to make my way up the hill towards the train station and the big market. I decided to try my luck with taking some photos of people here as I had been slacking on this part for my project. Taking photos of people in general I find super intimidating and over here its even harder. I started out taking a picture of a baba selling something on the street to a lady.
I wondered into the market, trying to stay out of everyone’s way and I realized that my lens had fogged up and I quickly hurried into a corner trying to get it back to normal. I never know how long I have before someone stops me and asks what I am doing so I try to make it in and out of shootings fast. I wondered around the meat counters, which is probably one of my favorite things to look at. In America our meat comes in nice little packages with next to no hint of what it might once have been. We only tend to buy “normal” parts, when’s the last time you saw hearts, or a pigs head shrink wrapped and for sale in the grocery store?
I hate the fish section of the market and try to get through it as fast as possible. All those dead beady little eyes looking at you. Most of the fish here is sold in these frozen hunks, with the scales are still on. I don’t know how you would even began to cook something like that and I don’t really want to think about it. There are still bones in there too, I am sure of it. The isles paths in between the stales are always cramped and I hold my camera bag up so it won’t get any fish guts on it. I would end up in a germ frenzy, freak out and end up rubbing hand sanitizer all over my bag or something messed up like that. I have also been frightened a few times when I am looking at the fish, its like a horrible car crash that you have to look at, and they aren’t frozen and there gils are still moving. I talked with my Australian professor friend here and he assured me that the fish don’t feel a thing, that their brains aren’t big enough. I still think its gross. They also sell fish here a vacuum sealed bag. Again scales, bones and everything. I need to move on before I vomit all over my MacBook. Pretty sure that’s not covered in the care plan and I really don’t want to carry this thing smelling worse then a dead fish back to America to the Guineas Bar at my local Apple where I am sure to get some odd questions, that I may not want to answer. “Um you mean you threw up on your laptop because you were writing about dead fish that people consume?”
I made it through that maze of slime and found myself at a stall that sells cakes and cookies. Most of the time I glance, but keep on walking. That day I stopped when I saw what looked like a chocolate cake type pastry with coconut on it. If you have been reading all my blogs you know how I feel about chocolate, well kids if there is one thing I love more then chocolate it is chocolate with coconut. The guy running the stall was helping another lady with her selections so I waited patiently for him to be done with her. I was trying to size him up, if he was going to be mad at me for being a foreigner, but when it was my turn he surprised me by being extremely nice to me and even smiled, which is rare for anyone in Ukraine that you don’t know. He worked with my limited langue skills and silly gestures that I have become accustom to using. It should be interesting to see if I am still doing them when I get home. On the other hand I am sure that I would be able to take anyone down in a mean game of charades at this point in time.
I walked through the part of the market selling fruits and vegetables, and most of them looked pretty bad off. That is the thing about Ukraine though, you will see stuff for sale in America that looks like its bad to us, but in reality its still good. Its whats under the skin that matters. Get it, under the skin? They also don’t appear to grow anything in the winter months in green houses and they don’t import that much from other place. I hope you like cabbage, apples that look like they’ve been used in batting practice, oranges from Spain, potatoes, and pickled what ever you like.
I left the big market and went outside and saw a smaller open air market that I decided to try out. On my way there I got this excellent picture of an old baba by mistake, I was trying to get something else that I have completely forgotten what it was by now, but she walked in front of me.
Also when I was stepping off the curb to cross the street another old baba was trying to make her way down a snow covered ramp. I held my arm out incase she needed to grab on to it if she slipped. She gave me a huge smile and seemed really grateful as most people here only seem to look out for themselves. It was just one small thing that I wouldn’t think twice about doing. We all have grandmothers and I’m pretty sure I’ve never met someone who thinks that theirs is a horrible person, it just doesn’t happen so everyone look out for a grandmotherly looking person in your life this week. 
I went into the market and started taking a few pictures trying to be as un-obvious as possible. I saw this great looking old man walking towards me with a tea kettle in his hand and I got so excited. This is the stuff I live for over here.
I ended up getting a shot of him and all of a sudden out of no where this guy came up behind me and touched my arm to get my attention and then started shouting at me. I tried to calmly explain to him that I only spoke English and he kept yelling and gesturing to my camera. I could see that it was a lost cause so I walked off in the opposite direction, not looking back. I got to the edge of the market and walked to the other side of the street and I finally looked back and he was standing there watching me with a menacing scowl on his face. I was in shock, so many emotions were running through me at that point in time. I dwelled on it the whole twenty five minuet walk back home and at first I had to hold back tears, then it turned to anger. Half of me wanted to go back and yell at him, that he was the reason that people thought badly of Ukraine or maybe just tell him to F* off. That’s a pretty universal word. I think I was more disappointed in the fact that three weeks into my time in Lviv and no one had treated me in such a way and this guy had to go and be a complete jerk for no apparent reason. I reached my street and stopped at Big Burger and got my horribly fattening hot dog lunch and went back to watch Glee as I ate and de-stress.
I talked to my hostel owner about the event a little later on in the week and he was shocked by the whole thing, I on the other hand was still really confused. He said the guy may have thought that I was a spy. I was like, Eddie come on. How long ago did the Cold War end, you can’t be serious? He was and told me that with some people the feelings still run deep. I ended up repeating the story to some of the Peace Corps volunteers the next day and they agreed that the guy probably did think I was a spy. Apparently it is more common the further East you go for people to think this way. One girl said that at the school she teaches at one of the students parents are positive that she is one. I was still skeptical of how people could think this of me. I was like, I am a twenty-two year old who speak no Russian or Ukrainian, I am just here doing a photography project for my college back home, and I am living at the Kosmonaut hostel. Her reply, that’s a great cover don’t you think?
All right Obama if I really am spying for you I am going to need a few more things to properly complete my mission.
-I want accesses to a bath tub that has hot water once a week complete with a Lush bath bomb of my choice.
-I’m going to need more fresh fruits and vegetables, so that means a bigger food budget.
-A personal chef/ body guard that can use the cover of being my boyfriend.
-An apartment in the city center would be nice too. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just livable, but also I’ll keep my room at the hostel as a cover.
-One friend of my choosing flown over every three weeks for a week so I don’t miss home too much.
-A new pare of Gap jeans every three weeks and a new top once a week.
-A top of the line digital camera, with a bunch of different lenses, and the biggest memory card possible.
-Diplomatic immunity for any little indiscretions I may get myself into.
-A Starbucks needs to be built here as soon as possible and when I ask for a venti coffee they know what I am talking about and I can get it in a to-go cup.
-A $100 chocolate budget for a month, make that every two weeks to be safe actually.
-A trip to Amsterdam every six weeks to rest up and take time to stop and smell the roses, ahem tulips or some other liberal country.
-Immunity to vodka, so I can't get drunk and talk about American secrets.
-Maybe a cool spy name too.
(Just me in blending in with the locals and that's how I looked for the party. I just used a sweater that I already had.)
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