Christmas in Istanbul

Christmas Eve
Fatima sits quietly at the end of the pew in Saint Antoine Church on Christmas eve. Jud, Justin and I move into the pew, in awe of the church, in awe that this is the very church where Pope John XXIII preached for 10 years before becoming Pope, the humble beneficent pope beloved by all peoples. Another new discovery on this fabulous journey through this incredible city.

We are early and the choir is rehearsing, Oh Come all Ye Faithful, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Oh Holy Night, and other familiar carols, plus songs from Africa, Mexico and the Phillipines. The church fills. It's an international congregation, befitting the memory of Pope John XXIII. The church embodies his spirit of love, tolerance and inclusiveness. So does Fatima.

We introduce ourselves, start chatting. I explain that we are Peace Corps volunteers from America working in Ukraine. She is fascinated, curious, wants to know more. She says she was born in Turkey, is a Muslim, and lives in Munich, Germany, with her family. She is a college student in international organizational development. She speaks many languages, loves Munich, is a devout Muslim, and interested in world cultures. She is a beautiful young woman, spiritual and modern at the same time.

What brings you to Istanbul, to this church? I ask. "Istanbul is my birthplace, Islam my religion, and the cultures of the world my great interest," she says.

Pope John XXIII, I know you are here! I feel you. Hear you. You are smiling. We are blessed. Christmas eve in Istanbul.

The Grand Bazaar
Before going to Saint Antoine's, we spent the day at The Grand Bazaar. And it is GRAND. Huge, colorful, ancient, glorious. We decided to buy each other Christmas presents, so we had a purpose. After lots of walking and looking, I bought a Turkish skull cap and spices for Jud, who loves to cook and had a Turkish cookbook, and a red t-shirt with crescent moon and star and a lovely watercolor of whirling dervishes for Justin, our young philosopher.

The Grand Bazaar is an experience in itself. An important aspect of shopping in the Bazaar, well everywhere in Istanbul, is bargaining for the best price, at which the Turks are masters. We were no match, but sometimes we thought we were, or they let us think we were! We tried.

Jud bargained for a teapot, a beautiful Byzantine tulip pattern, but decided not to accept the vendor's lowest offer. He walked away, the vendor stood pat, and the deal ended. Jud later regretted the decision, and so we went back looking for the same price. It took a while but with Justin's scouting abilities Jud finally got his teapot, which he has been wanting for ten years, and some lovely cups and saucers to go with it. He promised to serve us tea in this elegant set when he cooks our Turkisk meal.

I think we covered maybe one-tenth of the Grand Baazar, with its over 4,000 shops, before calling it quits for the day. They sure liked to shop in the Middle Ages!

Taksim SquareAfter a nice lunch at an outdoor cafe next to the Bazaar (it's almost impossible to have a bad meal in Istanbul), and an hour or so rest back at the hostel, we took the tram and metro to Taksim Square, the heart of Istanbul, its Times Square, its Picadilly Circus. This is the metro stop to get to Saint Antoine's, and we were glad! What a sight. Christmas trees and lights, lots of people coming and going, head-scarved girls on cellphones, street musicians and dancers, great shops, restaurants galore, trendy, international, cross-cultural. Urban energy and glow. Modernity and antiquity. It was a fabulous walk to Saint Antoine's, right up Taksim's main street.

Christmas day
We all slept well, a peaceful, easy feeling filling our souls. On Christmas day, December 25, 2009, we joined each other on the upper terrace of the Antique Hostel, with its magnificent view of the Sea of Marmara and the shimmering rooftops of Sultanahmet Square.

After breakfast we shared gifts. Jud and Justin loved my gifts, and I loved theirs: pretty earrings from Justin, and rose and floral-scented soaps from Jud. We remembered our families, said Merry Christmas to loved ones, and thanked our lucky stars for being in Istanbul at this special time of year. My toast: To a happy and healthy new year and a Turkish meal cooked by Jud!

Our greatest gift this Christmas day: a tour of Hagia Sophia. It is incredible, magnificent. President Obama was here recently, a photo documenting the event. We stood where he stood, in awe of the architecture, the columns and high painted ceilings, the ancient golden mosaics from the time of Constantine being restored to their former glory, the exquisite craftsmanship and art. What a way to spend Christmas day! It is my fondest hope that the spirit of Istanbul stays with our new young President as well.

After experiencing Hagia Sophia, we had a light lunch, a Turkish pizza and salad, at a restaurant where another president had eaten: Jimmy Carter, and his wife Roslynn. Photos posted on walls and windows proudly testify to this visit. It felt good to be sitting at the very spot where one of my favorite president's ate. I can see now that Istanbul is part of his being. I really believe this. It accounts for his largeness of spirit, his search for peace, his goodwill to all people across the world.

That night we had Christmas dinner at Asitane's, a world-famous restaurant featuring Ottoman palace cuisine, food cooked for the sultans. We ate like kings. The restaurant is in Edirnekapi, an Istanbul neighborhood we were unfamiliar with, and for some reason we had a hard time getting there. We came up from the tram stop in the middle of a busy cross-section of streets lined with fences and barricades, and nonstop traffic swirling around us. At one time I felt trapped on a crossroads. "I am not crossing this street," I proclaimed. I was remembering my fall on the streets of Starobilsk. Justin and Jud looked at me. We agreed to take a taxi to the restaurant and forget crossing streets and finding the next metro. In remembering this traffic jam later, we all had a good laugh.

I never thought I'd spend a Christmas in Istanbul. I never thought I'd be a Peace Corp Volunteer in Starobilsk, Ukraine; maybe a PCV some day, but not in Ukraine. It is amazing where life takes you if you take life as it comes.

Discovering Istanbul

The Blue Mosque with its six towering minarets reaching to heaven glimmers in the night sky. The call to prayers beckons the devout for the fifth and last time today.

I have just arrived in Istanbul from Starobilsk, a long travel day, but I am called out too. I unpack a few things, then go for a walk around The Antique Hostel in ancient Sultanahmet Square, where I am staying: might as well get my bearings. PCV friends Jud and Justin have yet to arrive.

The bustling streets are aglow with white and blue lights, mostly blue and brilliant; lively patrons fill shops and restaurants even in this off-season. The Turkish people are happy and friendly, eager to talk, know where you are from, have your business, serve you food, sell you treasures, sell you a rug, with a hot cup of delicious Turkish apple tea. It's a mild evening, mild after coming from freezing Ukraine.

Around another corner I go, and that's when I see it: the Blue Mosque. I didn't realize it was so close to our hostel, and it takes me by surprise. Actually, it takes my breath away. I feel my spirit soaring. Such beauty and majesty. I am transported to a glorious Ottoman past. I am mesmerized.

When I turn to the right, to the West, another amazing sight: directly across from the Blue Mosque, beyond beautiful fountains, is the domed basilica of Hagia Sophia or Ayasofya (Holy Wisdom), an architectural feast, complex and layered. It is older, perhaps wiser. Begun in the reign of Constantine around 340 and rebuilt three times, it was a major church of Christendom for over 900 years. It was then a mosque for 481 years. It is now a museum, thanks to the foresight and wisdom of Ataturk, revered first president of the Republic of Turkey, and his historically conscious successors up to the present. Ayasofya watched, I'm sure with pleasure, as the Blue Mosque ascended, watched as over 35,000 blue tilies were carried to its interior to glorify Allah, watched as the faithful came to pray. A living mosque to this day.

Behind Hagia Sophia is the Basilica Cistern, even older than Ayasofya, a restored underground Roman cistern, one of several hundred that still lie beneath the city. It was built by Emperor Constantinius I to provide water to a growing holy city, the Rome of the East, and later restored by Justinian. It's beautiful columns have stood firm for centuries.

Sultanahmet encompasses incomparable Byzantine, Roman, Ottoman and Islamic architecture. It is the soul of a city that straddles two continents, Europe and Asia, a glorious bridge across the Bosphorous to the worlds of East and West. I have never experienced such a blending of cultures. What a fabulous journey.

I look up in the sky and behold a bright crescent moon and a neighboring star shining down on the Blue Mosque. A replica of the Turkish flag. The heavens and earth conjoined. I am in Istanbul.

Merry Christmas, Grandchildren!

Dear Nana, Do they have Christmas in Ukraine? Love, Josh, Alli, Kyle, Julia, Tony and Philip

Dear grandchildren,

Yes, they do have Christmas in Ukraine. "Joy to the World..."

It's celebrated on January 7, though, not on December 25. That means I will get to celebrate Christmas two times. "Let heaven and nature sing!"

Christmas means the same thing here as there: Celebrating the birth of Jesus and giving gifts of love to one another, like the Magi brought to the lowly manger ("Away in a Manger") where Jesus was born. "We three kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we travel afar..."

Sometimes we go overboard on the gift-giving, but then it IS a time of celebration and sharing, of joy and giving. That's why we decorate trees and our homes, and put up bright lights. It was a Holy Night and the stars were brightly shining.

Your moms make your homes festive and beautiful at this time of year, like my mom did for me, Andy and Loren. I did the same for your moms. Now your moms do the same for you. Julia will do the same for Philip.

I love Michelle's tree, her Santa collection, her wreaths and glowing fireplace, not to mention her great pies and cookies. I love Elissa's homemade and second-hand tree decorations and unique arrrangements of candles, bulbs, and things she collects and never throws away, intertwined with strings of lights.

Family traditions. How special they are at this time of year!

"Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how lovely are thy branches..."

The smell of pine, the light of candles, the angels' voices. We are celebrating Jesus' birthday, and our love for each other.

I have also learned, I am happy to say, that there is a Santa Claus here. In fact, I have written him to remember you, especially Philip and Kyle, and Alli, Josh,Tony,and Julia, too, and I have it on good authority that he will be making a trip to Toledo, Ohio, on Christmas eve.

Santa will also be stopping in Tallahassee, Florida, for Ava and Leo, my sister's grandchildren.

Be on the lookout. And put out some milk and cookies by the fireplace.

"Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse....The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there...When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer..."

Okay, so we now know there are nine reindeer, including Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He comes in handy on a dark, cloudy night. Thank goodness for unusual reindeer!

The main thing is that the spirit of Santa lives on no matter where we are, or how old we are. It's a time when family traditions sustain us. It's a special time: "Silent Night, Holy Night..."

I wish you all a Merry Christmas. For me it also means counting down the months and days to my Toledo visit in March: less than 3 months! Seeing you will be the BEST gift of all. Love you with all my heart, Nana

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

We wish you a Merry Chiristmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year!

Daily Life

When I wake up in the morning, this is what I see out my bedroom window: The branches of an apricot tree covered in snow, behind Luba's sheer curtain with stars on it. I lay in bed and stare at it in quiet comtemplation, remembering what it looked like in summer. It was a green scene. The apricots were delicious. Luba made jam and compot (fruit juice), which we are enjoying now.

My sister Andy sent a wonderful Christmas package that included some decorations, so I put them up in my window. I think Luba and Sergei must decorate for Christmas, but maybe not until the end of the month. For now, my humble Christmas display is our only sign of the season at home.

The Christmas tree is going up in front of the Cultural Center in town. Every day this week, workers have added a few more branches. They are real live pines, cut from a nearby forest and carted in by truck. The scent of pine fills the air. Parents bring their children on sleds to watch the ritual.

I hope to take a photo after our English Club meeting and Christmas party on Sunday late afternoon, even though we are having frigid weather, below zero, with blowing snow and blizzard conditions.

I've been working at home more lately, but get out for a few hours a day, to Vera's or the Library, to the bazaar, to do errands. Vera and I did get the draft of our Small Project Assistant (SPA) grant, "KNOW YOUR RIGHTS," into the Peace Corps this time. We are awaiting word from reviewers on how to make it better, for the January 25 deadline.

I am also drafting timelines and suggestions for Iryna at the Library. Some good things are evolving, including some aspects of a Heritage project. I hope we can give it wings! More on that in the new year. That's when we'll get to that Partnership grant too.

I love getting your emails. In the morning I usually have four or five emails that were sent the night before, and then I hear from the early risers, Andy and Kathy, around 14:00 here, 7:00 am there. I look forward to these. I don't know how PC volunteers did it before the internet, cel phones and skype, our connections to home, family and friends.

Okay, the cat wants food. Luba hung laundry on the line outside and the clothes are freezing into cardboard boxes. The water is heating for a bath. I'm making another cup of coffee. The light is fading. This is daily life in Ukraine in December

Comfort and Joy

COMFORT
Walking on Ice: I put the yak traks on my new Lands End boots for the first time and walked to the Library for our English Club meeting. It was a cold day with snow. Luba warned me about the ice. I navigated without any problems. The boots were soft and warm. No slipping and sliding. What a comfort to get over the fear of falling.

It's also nice to know that if you layer up and wear a hat, which is a must for all Ukrainians, you will be warm inspite of the cold. You are not allowed to go out the door without a hat that covers your ears, Luba has made sure of that. Same with gloves, scarves, warm socks. A must. You might be carrying around an extra 30 pounds or more, or so it feels, but at least you won't freeze to death. I am acclimating to winter weather, with style!

JOY
Democracy in action: Made it to the English Club in high spirits, and it turned out to be a special meeting. We had a small, mixed, and lively group. Anton joined us for the first time. He proved to be a taskmaster, while I showed myself to be a rather relaxed, or lax, depending on your point of view, teacher.

When we couldn't get something in English, we used Russian. Alosha played Russian songs on his guitar and sang in Russian. So did Olga and Luda. Beautiful voices. Ira danced for us, a strenuous dance to hip hop music.

We discussed the meaning of Christmas, celebrating the birth of Jesus, and the meaning of gift giving, the tradition of the Magi traveling from the orient to bring gifts to the baby Jesus. Until independence, the adults noted, the religious meaning of Christmas was not emphasized.

We talked about Christmas songs and lyrics, and read a few. Joy to the World and Away in a Manger. We talked about the meaning of the songs. We made decorations for our poster Christmas tree, and listened to more music, in Russian. The tree looked pretty. A good time was had by all. I thought.

Then Anton asked to speak. Sure thing, speak up, Anton. "We need a new rule for our Club," he said solemnly. "We must speak only in English. ONLY ENGLISH. NO RUSSIAN. That is what this Club is for. It should be for learning, not just fun."

Silence for a minute. I thought I might have to carry the ball after that. But then other members spoke up, a few, pointedly, in Russian. Julia rattled on with some vehemence, which of course I did not understand but everyone else did. Maria spoke, pa Anglisky, in favor of speaking in English AND Russian when necessary, because we are such a mixed group of different ages and proficiency levels. She liked it the way it was, and thought it should be fun, too, by the way. Olga agreed we should try to speak mostly in English, but if we have to resort to Russian sometimes, so be it. Moreover, she added, we can help Fran by speaking Russian," to which I nodded.

Anton persisted. "That is not the purpose of this Club. To help Fran speak Russian, or to let others off the hook. This is an ENGLISH club."

So it went. Some members were uncomfortable with the disagreements. The youngest kept silent, watching the debate with some amazement. It occured to me that they might not be used to such debates, and certainly NOT to disagreeing in public with the teacher, with any authority. One member expressed his disagreement with Anton in doodles and sketches, which he left behind for me.

But, frankly, I saw the whole debate as a true exercise in democracy, and I said so. It's not easy, I said. We all have different opinions, and we can express them without fear. We talked a bit about having "opinions," about debating them. I was happy for it. "I'm proud of you for having this debate," I added.

We had now gone some 30 minutes over our time slot at the library. Everyone sat in rapt attention. No one moved, as if waiting for the conductor to raise her baton.

I summarized: Anton wants a rule that we speak only in English. Others disagree. Why not think about it and come back next week with IDEAS FOR THE ENGLISH CLUB? Everyone felt good about this suggestion. Some tension lifted. What kind of rules should we have? Should we have an English-only rule? Something else? Other rules? No rules? Luda agreed to make notes, add a few ideas, and lead the discussion. Some leaders are emerging, also a great thing.

We are having our Christmas party next week since I'll be taking off after that. I am giving small gifts to each of the members, 2010 calendars that are handsome but cost just a few hryvnias each. We will have cookies and juice with our discussion. Maybe we will elect a president and a secretary, something that's been on my mind since the subject was first raised at an early meeting. We'll see how it goes. I'm willing to let things flow. So far, they flow in a positive direction and good things happen, spontaneously. Democracy in Action. I'm looking forward to next week's meeting. Joy to the World!

Songs for My Father

I'm listening to Christmas music now. It's a chilly December evening, about 9:00 pm (21:00) in Starobilsk. I know my sister Andy and brother Loren are doing the same thing in Tallahassee, Florida, even though we are a world and 7-hours apart. That's because it's a family tradition. No matter where we are, we listen to the music.

That's what our dad did as soon as we were done with our Thanksgiving meal, even before we finished the pumpkin pie (or so it seemed). Dad was up playing Christmas albums on our record player, filling the house with the sounds of the season, singing along.

We listened with him, absorbing at some unconscious level the spirit of the music, the deep and abiding love my dad had for his family. One of my earliest Christmas memories, I was about six or seven, was my dad singing "All I want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth." And, with a twinkle in his eye, "I saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus."

I can't think of Christmas without thinking of my dad. He was the holiday music maestro of all time. Dad loved Christmas and he loved Christmas songs. He loved all of them, and he knew them all: classical, popular, religious, the 50 or 100 top favorites, grand chorale music, carols from other countries.

I'm glad that for my dad's last Christmas, in 1976, we had a white Christmas and a huge family reunion in Rochester, with aunts, uncles, cousins, and his beloved grandchildren, along with some great caroling. I like to think it was one of his best Christmases ever.

My dad never ran out of music. Hark the Herald Angels Sing. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. Silent Night. What Child is This. Oh Come All Ye Faithful. We Three Kings. Oh Christmas Tree. Away in a Manger. Oh Holy Night. We listened to the Morman Tabernacle Choir, local choirs, the Berlin, London, New York and other splendid orchestras of the day. Our hearts were filled with the glorious sounds of violins, organs, trumpets, drums, soloists, and hundreds of voices singing hallalujas.

My sister , brother, and I all share this same memory, as vivid as if it were yesterday. We hear the songs. We hear dad singing. He is watching mom bake fruit cake (a sacred family recipe) and dozens of cookies, helping out where he can. We are decorating the tree (just so for my mom). Hanging the stockings by the chimney with care. The music plays on.

Mom made sure he played Tschaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite, because part of our tradition was going to the ballet at the Eastman theatre. I loved the Russian dancers, but I never dreamed I'd be in a country where Russian traditions reigned.

I also remember a Festival of Carols at the Eastman, with about 50 church choirs from around Rochester, including from our Calvary Baptist Church. My mom sang in the adult choir, led by well-known Eastman organist and voice teacher Harry Watts, a close family friend. I sang in the youth choir and found it thrilling.

But best of all, perhaps, dad's Christmas repertoire included the popular classics: I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas. Let it Snow. Jingle Bells. Chestnuts Roasting by an Open Fire. The Drummer Boy. Dad loved Bing Crosby, Andy WIlliams, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, all the wildly popular talents of that day. Now we love them, too. When we hear the music, we hear our dad.

I'm listening to Silver Bells now, sipping tea with a bit of cognac to toast to my dad and the memories we cherish. Cheers, Dad! And cheers to one and all.

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold!
'Peace on the earth, good will to men,'
From heaven's all gracious King!
The world in silent stillness lay
To hear the angels sing....

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When, with the ever-circling years,
Shall come the Age of Gold;
When peace shall over all the earth
It's ancient splendors fling.
And all the world give back the song,
Which now the angels sing.

Odds and Ends

MY FIREPLACE: I'm sitting beside my imaginary fireplace listening to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" while it snows outside and sipping hot tea spiced with a touch of cognac. Music and memories. Ah, bliss.

BOOKS FOR THE LIBRARY: I have been asking around and so has Kathy Curro and others about mailing books from America to Starobilsk. As Kathy put it, we have a glut of books here, they have none or few in Starobilsk, and it costs an arm and leg to get them to you. Nothing's easy, right? On top of this, Ukrainian customs has lots of rules and regs and they change often.

I put out an SOS to PCVs in Ukraine and responses are coming in. Melissa Ailiff, in southern Lugansk, bless her soul, says she's been collecting books for some time now. "I have over 200," she says with glee! Her goal is 300, and I believe she'll make it.

The cheapest way to send books, says Melissa, is using the United States Postal Service (USPS), the good 'ole US mail, with one of its flat rate international packages. It's about $55-60 for a box up to 30 lbs, she says. It's high, but not over the top. She says some of her fans raise the money for postage, others donate the cost. Address the box to me directly (not the Library at this point): Francine Curro Cary, c/o Flyat, A/R 14, Starobilsk, Luganst Oblast, Starobilsk, Ukraine 92703.

Keep the box to about 25 lbs and write on the box and on the custom slip: USED BOOKS PERSONAL USE NO VALUE. Don't indicate PCV or anything like that. Just use my name.

Maybe my sister can experiment with a box and we'll share what happens. Are you there, sis?

ADDENDUM: PCVers had other ideas: Buy books at www.amazon.com/UK. They ship books to Ukraine all the time. Buying books is an expense, but you don't have to worry about shipping. Derek Horn and others suggested Darien books at http://www.dba.darien.org/. Done! You can count on volunteers to come through! Thanks to all.

FRESH FRUIT: After going to the Library to deliver a get-well card to Iryna, who's been sick with some flu, I stopped at a nearby street vendor selling seasonal fruit and bought apples and tangerines. The vendor was helpful and accommodating, patiently counting things, weighing them, explaining the prices. He got right away that I was from America. I was bundled up like an Eskimo and wearing my bright blue coat, so he might have recognized me from that! I said I was sorry I couldn't speak much Russian, in my broken Russian. He said in Russian, and I understood it, "No problem. I dont speak any English. It's nice to meet Amerikanka!" Another close encounter of the cross-cultural kind that makes the life of a PCV so special!

CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS: A tall Christmas Tree is going up in front of the Cultural Center, one of my favorite buildings. Right now it is just a pole, but I can see where the branches will go. I'll send a photo. Also, I had a late meeting
and saw some Christmas lights downtown.

MEETING FRIENDS: Whle I was walking about town a few days ago, I ran into Anton, my poet friend, and Asya, my English teacher friend. Asya and Anton knew of each other but had never met. I felt doubly blessed: I got to see two great people, and I got to introduce them to each other! They were thrilled to meet in person. It's such a good feeling to help make these kinds of connections. I gave them each a piece of fruit.

GIFTS: I noticed Luba's lipstick and eye shadow were running low, so I decided to get her some new ones. I went to a store that sells L'Oreal, very nice. It's amazing how such a little thing can mean so much. She had tears in her eyes, thanking me for my kindness. It helps bridge that god-awful language barrier that keeps us from chatting like the good friends we are. I felt I received more in return than what I gave.

CHRISTMAS IN ISTANBUL: It's final. I will be in Istanbul for Christmas! PCV friend Jud and I were commiserating about not being home, feeling sorry for ourselves, when Jud blurted out, "Let's go to Istanbul." Well, guess what; after thinking about it for a few weeks, we made reservations on Air Turkey and will be meeting in Istanbul. A few other PCV friends might join us. We'll be staying in the Antique Hostel in Sultanahmet, Istanbul, near the Blue Mosque, Ayasofya, Topkapi Palace, St. Savior in Chora, the Istanbul Archaeology Museum, and the Grand Bazaar. It won't be a white Christmas, but it will be a colorful Christmas!

Holiday Spirit 2009

It's early December and holiday decorations are at a minimum in Starobilsk. I almost forget Christmas is coming.

Maybe that's because the orthodox holiday isn't celebrated until January 7, not December 25. Nor is Christmas the huge commercial holiday we know and love in the States. Well some of us don't always love the over-commercialization (I've been known to complain about it myself), but I love it THIS year. I'm away in Ukraine with the Peace Corps, and I'm missing the glitz and neon colors and overblown displays.

Compared to the lavish decorations at home, which go up in our malls and on our streets on Thanksgiving (earlier sometimes), there's hardly a sign of the season in this part of Ukraine. Maybe it's in the big cities, but not here.

I doubt I'll see a light display like the one on Tampa Bay in downtown St. Petersburg. My whole neighborhood is aglow at this time of year. I will miss the parade of boats, too, all decked out in their holiday finery. Such a sight to behold! Bright lights strung along masts and sails reflected on the water in a mirror image--real watercolors!

The holiday season is unfolding a bit differently here is all, I remind myself. It's interesting. The signs of the season are beginning to appear, but slowly. They are in pastel, not neon. They don't shout at you, they whisper.

Today I watched a lone babushka setting up a stall of Christmas tree decorations, bells, and ribbons. She dusted each one lovingly as she put it on a table.

In front of the shop where I buy coffee, milk and daily basics, at the corner of Karl Marx near Panfelova, I saw a few trees up for sale, the kind of trees Charlie Brown favored. It was snowing, and the trees gathered the white flakes as if decorating themselves. It was a muted canvas, not a Macy's window display. Maybe that comes in January, with the new year.

Meanwhile, I'll play some old Christmas music and enjoy the new experience. The holiday spirit comes in all shapes and sizes, in different ways, but it's everywhere. Now if only it could bring peace to every corner of the world, that would be the greatest blessing of all.

The History Museum

The front of Museum, behind cafe; rear view of building (below).

The History Museum is near the university, behind a small cafe (with a large sign) frequented mostly by students. The once-elegant building is in need of renovation. The exhibits are in need of care. You enter through a small vestibule with a chronology of events posted on the wall, and then walk into a natural history exhibit of stuffed animals and birds, interesting but unconnected to anything. They must be the special interest of a local taxidermist.

You then go into two rooms with a few pre-War momentos but mostly World War II documents, newspaper and magazine articles, some great photographs, and some artifacts and memorabilia, all in need of preservation and professional display. Articles and photos are tacked on the walls, with little explanation. They fascinate, but that's as far as a visitor gets.

Behind the WWII exhibit is another larger room, with beautiful large windows and a high ceiling. Perhaps it was once a living room, in the early 20th century, and is now meant to be a replica with authentic period furnishings. Nothing is stated, this is surmised, from the looks of it.

A lovely grand piano stands alone and forlorn, surrounded by unopened boxes and stacks of furniture, half-packed tables, chairs and bureaus, and the beginnings of an exhibition set. The stage is up, but the show is on hold. It looks like the museum ran out of money in the middle of a project and the ambitious effort stopped dead in its tracks. The piano is a witness to faded hopes.

The volunteer director, along with some other adults and children with her, was pleasant and eager, but not very informative. The friend I was with, Tonya, didn't have much information either. I've had a hard time returning to the place. There's a sadness about it.

There seems to be little interest in the plight of this museum. There is no evident public effort to preserve this or any other historic buildings. You can see the ancient granduer, can sense a mystery, but you really have to look, to pay attention. Otherwise it is just another drab building among many. And no one cares.

Or rather, historic preservation is not a priority. Survival in tough economic times is more important than preserving the past. Spending money on urgently needed roads, transportation, and comnmunications infrastructures is more important than spending money on old buildings, not that there is any money to spend on anything. For individuals and families, the priorities are sufficient food, clothing and shelter, plus water and heat. Charity is almost unheard of, philanthropy almost nil.

So historic preservation is another idea that floats, waiting for a better time. Someone, some group, needs to create community awareness and interest, and even a sense of urgency. Once the buildings go, the stories go with them, never to be revived. But fixing buildings nowadays, and presenting their histories, has to wait on fixing the economy, and maybe on eradicating the greed and corruption that runs rampant and unchecked.

So things keep going the way they have always gone. Nothing happens.

When I was a little girl I wanted to paint the old houses along my route to school with a fresh coat of paint so they would look pretty. I imagined what they would look like in bright new colors. Walking around Starobilsk has revived this childhood fantasy. The little girl in me wants to fix things up. I am actually amazed I retrieved the image, that it is still alive.

Around we go in this circle of need, ideas and survival. And survival wins most of the time. I understand it. It is the way it is.

Ideas Float: A Starobilsk Heritage Project

I have lots of ideas but ideas can be tricky. They sound good on paper, but they may be unrealistic to put into practice. Most important, they have to come from the bottom up, from the needs and interests of the people of Starobilsk. A PCV can help, but not lead, can suggest, but not implement alone.

This is happening with an idea for a Starobilsk heritage project. It's floating.

The idea was born on a walk I took around town with Olga. It was a lovely fall day, bright and sunny. A knowledgable guide, Olga pointed out the architectural features of houses and buildings and told stories about them.

Here is the home of a well-known author, name of Gaston. He lived in Starobilsk for about five years, died tragically. Over there is a home built in the 19th century. See the beautiful details around the windows and along the roof. This home near the park is the only one in town built in the Queen Anne style; it is now a store. The park used to be an Orthodox cemetary. The Soviets built a park on it, with the massive Lenin monuments, to give a message about the importance of the state. That large mansion across from the old technical Institute, now being restored, was used during the 1930s to interrogate and torture prisoners. People went in and never came out. The brick structure with the chimney towering over the town is an old fire station. Oh yes, this lovely little church near the park: not grand and elegant, but a witness to history, including the building of the park. The stately church near School #3, Saint Nicolas, our main Orthodox church, is also a witness. It is full of beautiful icons. The church on the road to Lugansk is a monestary, for women. Here we are. Let's go in.

What a fascinating tour. And the inside of the church and the monestary grounds are beautiful, like all churches here and throughout Ukraine. If churches could talk, the stories they could tell!

I had looked at all these building before, on my way to and from the center of town, but I hadn't really seen them. Not with an eye for the detail and the story.

After that walk with Olga, I asked questions and learned more. I took pictures. I probed for information. The grandest buildings seem to have been built in the 19th century, under the Tzars, before the revolution. Some buildings are pre-World War I, a few survived World War II. Imagine the stories. Tales of love and family. Of music, art and culture. Tragic tales of war, starvation and death. Of fear and trembling. Of dreams deferred.

Those buildings that went up after WWII, though not noted for their beauty, also house untold stories. Towns grew up overnight around manufacturing and mining plants, and with them those drab, colorless, utilitarian apartments that still dominate the landscape in many Ukrainian towns.

The few people who survived the war, which left the country in ruins, were desperate, sad, hopeless, a pervasive post-traumatic stress syndrome. People sought comfort and security. They welcomed a sense of family and community. They welcomed the help of the state. This is a critical chapter in Ukraine history. Then there are stories of "Khruschev buildings," efforts to divide up these communal apartments so that families had their own space and more privacy. It's a revealing development that also awaits a historian.

Starobilsk is the oldest town in Lugansk oblast. It has a rich but largely unheralded history. I'm not sure how much of the history is written, but it is remembered. The memories and oral traditions are astounding. They need to be captured for the ages. The historian in me wants to uncover them all. But for now, this idea of a Starobilsk heritage project is floating. It will find a home in time, if that's what people want and some organization is interested in taking it on.

Books for the Biblioteca

Banned books, kids books, all books welcomed. Flickr photos.

Dear friends and loved ones,

I had tea with Tonia a few days ago and she asked me again about English-language books for her students. "They would be such a great help in teaching." Other teachers have made the same request. Members of the English Club have asked. Iryna, the library director, said she would love to start a new collection.

That's why I was disappointed when I recently found out that the U.S. Embassy no longer gives English-language books to Ukrainian libraries. So was Iryna. Nor am I sure Books for Peace is giving books to Ukraine. I'm checking.

Tonia came to Luba's yesterday to help me write this blog. We're asking for books for the library. Tonia is translating this into Russian for Iryna and other teachers. I told her not to get hopes up too high, but we will try.

My daughter Elissa's friend Shannon has already offered books, even before this request. So has Amanda Stein, my grandchildren Tony and Julia's beloved aunt who works for a library in northern Kentucky. These are our pioneering angels! What kind of books do we want, they asked.

The library will welcome all kinds of books, fiction and non-fiction, including children's literature. Those with pictures would be great for younger kids, Tonia said. We couldn't get too many of these.

We'd love to have some American classics in this collection, from Emerson and Thoreau to Mark Twain and Willa Cather up to Toni Morrison and Sue Monk Kidd.
English Club members are interested in American history, so history books would be great, if they're not too technical and complicated. Slim paperbacks are fine. Mysteries and detective stories would be fun.

Poetry collections would be popular. It's also relatively easy to choose a short poem to read and discuss together. I did this with autumn poems at an English Club, and it was one of our best sessions. Poems are great for tutoring too.

It seems like postage will be an expense, I warned Tonia. Both sister Andy and cousin Kathy have said as much. I hope it's not prohibitive, or a deterrent. The donation might be tax deductible, like gifts given to Peace Corps partnership projects.

So here is Tonia's and the teachers' request. The Library's keen interest. The community's need. If you have a bunch of books that you've read and no longer need, send them to our library. They will be well used and loved here!

The address is: Starobilsk (Rayon) Library. Yls. Komynarov 36, Starobilsk, Luganst Oblast, Ukraine, 92700.

Let me know if and when you send any books so Iryna and I can be on the look out for them. Many thanks for your interest and goodwill. I will keep you posted.