The Egyptian Museum

The exterior of the Egyptian Museum is beautiful. We couldn't take any photos inside, so here are a few flikr photos, including King Tut's elegant gold mask, from the Egyptian Museum.
The Egyptian Museum is a journey back through 5000 years of history, a vast warehouse of artifacts from ancient times.The building itself is beautiful, rosy, elegant, and finely detailed. We could see it from the windows of our hostel. Large high-ceilinged rooms hold tons upon tons of items excavated from the sands of time by fascinated scientists and archaeologists going back at least to Grecian times and up to the present. Egypt is, obviously, an archaeologist’s dream.

I've never seen so many mummies’ coffins or sarcophaguses in one place anywhere, room after room after room. The designs and colors and decorative paintings are as varied as any artist’s palette and inspiration, and they fascinate. Hiereoglypics, symbols, and images of ancient Egypt. Some look as bright as the day they were painted over 3000 years ago; some are faded into antique pastels, a muted but persistent glory.

The jewelry is beautiful, too, gold, precious stones, and bead work in amazing detail, supreme craftsmanship, and abundant. Bejeweled Egyptian queens must have dazzled their pharoahs.

There was no end to the splendors. I spent two hours in the galleries featuring items from King Tut's tomb, and I didn’t come close to seeing it all. I've never seen so many little carved animals, statuettes, art work, finely crafted furniture, gilded gold chairs with ornate carvings fit for the young king who occupied them. How could a tomb hold so many things? It must have been like the Grand Bazaar of Egypt in a mausoleum: so extravagant a setting for a dead king that could never enjoy his grand furnishings as much as we do today!

The Museum sometimes seemed more like a storage area than a museum. I would have liked more information, more explanation of what I was seeing. Perhaps some information sheets or brochures at the entrances to the various exhibits. I think there's been some improvement in how the items are displayed and the Museum continues to refine its exhibits.

One thing the Museum has mastered: it has a fantastic gift shop. It was nice to come upon it at the end of the visit, along with a nice café and a good cup of coffee. I bought lots of little gifts for family and friends, delighted that every item in the shop had a price tag. That alone warranted a grand shopping spree.

When we started out in the morning Jud and I thought we'd make it to the Coptic museum this day, too, but after several hours we hadn't even begun to cover the Egyptian Museum. Jud stayed to sketch, and I went back to the hostel to reflect and write.

An overwhelming melange of images came to my mind as I stopped to think about how to describe the experience. Sometimes words fail me. Then again, Jud and I both went through the same museum and saw most of the same things, and yet when we talked about it at dinner (at a great Egyptian restaurant) his experience and mine were very different.

Travel adventures are, in this sense, subjective and personal. They are memories made by what you see, and how what you saw made you feel. Memories mixed with emotions, reality with imagination, experience with dreams. The Egyptian Museum encompasses all of these, a magic carpet ride back in time to the kingdoms of the great pharoahs of Egypt.

Cairo and the Pyramids

Surreal reality: The Pyramids at Gize, guarded by The Great Sphinx. We stood in awe with other tourists marveling at the history, grandeur and largeness of the pyramids. Ancient and spiritual. Below, at Sakkarah, down the dusty road of palms and fields.  I like these memory photos, taken with my trusty photo point and shoot Canon.

Cairo. Mindboggling and mindbending. Ancient city, modern megalopolis. Incredibly crowded, hectic, some 20 million people, most selling something and insisting you buy from them (or so it seems), along with millions of cars racing in and out of lanes that don't exist, horns blaring constantly for no reason except to say "make way."

Gridlock is the order of the day on the road, and we get a good taste of it right off the bat when we taxied to the pyramids in the morning. It's even worse later in the day when we try to get to a park and restaurant, visions of the setting sun in the desert against darkening palms filling our heads. But no beautiful sunset that day! We got no further than a few blocks after more than an hour of creeping and honking; night fell, and we decided to get out (yes, in the middle of traffic) and take our chances. We were in downtown Cairo, ablaze with shops, restaurants and street vendors, and not far from our hostel, Egyptian Nights, which is right across the street from the Egyptian Museum. Well "right across the street" is not exactly the right image, because we're talking about an 8-lane highway, two-way traffic, barricades on both sides of the street, with no place to cross safely. You can do like the Egyptians do, which is close your eyes and step out into the traffic, or you can wait a long time and hope for a bit of a break in the flow of traffic, but not much.

We also learn quickly that there is no "prix fixe" menu for anything you want or need: pretty much everything is open for negotiation (Jud calls it "haggling"). This includes cab rides, tickets, getting to the pyramids, getting around the pyramids, getting next to the pyramids, and touching the pyramids. Also taking photos of turbaned men on colorfully decorated camels against the backdrop of the pyramids, for that sense of desert mirage and authenticity. Mindboggling.

Enshrouded in a purple- brown haze, Cairo is the desert, and even now, at the end of December, it's hot. Heat radiates down from the sun onto the sand, over the Nile, and up from the ground and the river. On our first day haze and smog cover the city, and an overcoat of brown velvet covers the trees, palms, bushes, and bougainvilla. I hardly recognized the bougainvilla in its brown dusting. The sun is as intense as the crowds, the traffic, and the culture of bargaining.

You cannot ask for anything, even the address of a restaurant, without being haggled, from the front desk of your hostel to the streets. Sometimes, well often, the haggling and "buy this" are annoying but sometimes it actually turns out okay. Like on our way home last night when we asked directions and a tall, handsome and friendly Egyptian said he was going that way and would walk us to our hostel, but stopped first at his "family perfume shop" along the way, and introduced us to Abdullah. Jud kind of rolled his eyes; I wondered, too, but we went with the flow, accepted some tea, and were treated to being adorned with beautiful scents. Our articulate accompaniest disappeared (no doubt to collect more customers), but Abdullah settled us in, and gently rubbed the scents on my wrists, my arms, my shoulder. It was lovely, and I happily ended up buying one of my favorites, the scent of Philosophe cologne from France, introduced to me several years ago by my niece Kaaren in Amsterdam. Ever doubtful after a day of "haggling," even Jud succumbed to the touch and the scents, and bought a richly textured cologne.

A nice way, you could even say "a very Egyptian way," to end a glorious day that began with a magnificent visit to the Pyramids of Gize(or Gizeh or Giza).

Oh my, the pyramids! Awesome! Simply awesome. More awesome to see than to imagine. The ancestry and the lineage, the sheer size and symmetry, the grandeur and mystery and symbolism. As awesome as when Heroditus of Greece first saw and described them.

The three pyramids of Gize outside of Cairo are among the biggest in the world, and the oldest, built around 2580 BCE. They include the tombs of Cheops (the largest), Chephren and Micerinus, pharoahs who lived like gods, and were believed to be god-kings. They spared no expense in building their tombs and in ornamenting and furnishing them, something amazingly confirmed on our visit the next day to the fantastic Egyptian Museum (more on that in another blog).

The pharoahs depended on the labor of thousands of slaves, who died at the rate of 8-10 a day sometimes, from exhaustion, overwork, the heat. Some scholars think these mammouth triangles reflect Egyptians' belief in the origins of life and pay homage to Re, the sun god and source of life. It's ironic, to a modern visitor, that these monuments to life forces caused the death of so many.

Yet they stand the test of time, as physical tombstones, perhaps because the great Sphinx is still guarding them. The Sphinx, an ancient monument itself, was carved from the bedrock of the Gize plateau. It has the body of a lion, with the head of a king, or a god, and it still symbolizes the strength and grandeur of ancient Egypt. It's been buried in sand, uncovered, recovered, and somewhat battered, but no one questions its stately purpose to this day.

The pyramids at Gize look like they are built from thousands of bricks, but up close you see they are made of humongous layered blocks of limestone and granite, some weighing over 2.5 tons according to scholars. Imagine carrying them from the Nile to the site, and hauling them one on top of the other, in perfect synchronicity, up to a fine point touching the sky. The gigantic blocks of granite and limestone were then covered in alabaster, now mostly stripped off, both by the forces of nature over the years, and also by the people who built the mosques of Cairo. Alabaster: white, smooth marble, strong and elegant. I imagine how the pyramids must have looked then, gleaming in brilliant white in the desert sun against a clear blue sky or against a starry black night sky.

To this day, the Pyramids fascinate and entice you. I couldn't believe I was actually seeing them with my own eyes! I am still dazzled. No matter the crowds, the sights of camels and horses and little horse-drawn carriages, the thousands of people exclaiming and taking photos, the equal number of people offering their services as guides. It seemed like a dream to be in the presence of the Pyramids of Gize.

While in this kind of shock of belief we picked up AD, or rather he picked us up, and served as our calm and knowledgeable guide as we strolled the grounds together for a few hours. He was a supreme publicist and PR man, making us feel comfortable, being helpful. He eventually convinced us to try a horse and buggy, perhaps aware of our aging resources, as it were, but he said it was for the purpose of getting even closer to the pyramids. Now Jud and I think the main reason was to help a friend, but we did get closer to the pyramids..

We also went to the necropolis, the funeral grounds, at Sakkarah, which is supposedly even larger and more important, representing several dynasties of ancient Egypt. We were a bit wiped out, after a day of travel, then being immersed in Cairo, then seeing the first pyramids,

so we didn't get close, but accepted our taxi driver's advice to drive around the grounds. In some ways the sense of time passing was even more evident here. The huge "step pyramid" of the pharoah Zoser was magnificent and grand, but looked more fragile, the stone crumbling in places from the elements of nature and time. We didn't stay long, just long enough to reinforce a sense of antiquity and grandiose hopes for eternity. A nearby palm forest swayed in the breeze, farmers tended fields, daily life went on, but the pyramids were immovable against the hazy gauze of a slowly setting sun filtering its rays around the sacred site. I fell asleep on the way back to the hostel, the blare of horns and the weaving of the cab receding into a pastel dream.

But while in the presence of the pyramids, a forceful magnetic energy engulfed me, the energy of ancient times and beliefs, the magnetism of omniscient god-men intent on preserving their lives into death. These ancient structures drew you in.

Cairo. The pyramids. Still standing on the horizon of time. The pyramids firm on shifting sands. The city of Cairo pulsating with a tremendous life force, never still, never silent, always moving. The solidity of antiquity, the fluidity of modernism. The entwined forces of the pyramids, pointing to the heavens, forever gazing into eternity, and the vibrantly alive veins and arteries of a city bursting with restless energy, Islamic beauty, and constantly changing urbanity.

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

It came upon a 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 solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

How we loved sharing this time of year together, Loren and I and the rest of the family. We had so many wonderful gatherings from the time we were young children in Rochester, New York. The traditions continued into our adulthoods, with our own children, and now with their children. We all shared as many Christmases together as we could, in Rochester, in Toledo, in Tallahasee, in St. Petersburg, in DC, and in between.

Loren inherited mom's make-believe tree, and he always had it ready to take out and light up. In fact, he brought it out early and kept it up late. I think it was because it held so many warm memories for him. Loren held on to the things that comforted him, sustained him. I understand it so much better now. I wish I could say it to him. We'd remind him that it was April and his Christmas tree was still up. "Yeah, I'll get to it" He did in his own time. I understand it now.

Loren didn't like the commercialism, but he loved the traditions, the spirit, the music. He had a good voice and sang Christmas carols, just like my dad. He loved the candles and the lights. My brother was a romantic at heart. He listened to love songs--Elton John, Paul McCartney, Nat King Cole, Andrea Bocelli. I pray he's found his true love wherever he is. How lucky that person will be.

I liked giving him gifts at Christmas, mostly books, or a subscription to the National Geographic, a membership to the Smithsonian, National Museum of the American Indian, or one of his favorite environmental groups. Loren usually gave little presents he had bought at the gift shops of one of his charities; St. Marks was a favorite. His gifts were precious, because they came from the heart.

This year I’m giving Loren the ancient sights and sounds and mysteries of Egypt. I know how much they mean to him. If the Age of Gold, the age of peace foretold by prophets, is coming round, it might well begin in Egypt, the ancient cradle of civilization. “You can tell me all about it, Loren. We can share our lives again. We can touch our souls there. See you in Egypt.”

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.

Lighting the Starobelsk Christmas Tree

On Sunday night, 19 December 2010, Starobelsk held its annual lighting of the Christmas tree. People gathered around the huge tree in front of the Cultural Center, visiting, chatting and dancing to the music blaring from the loud speakers. I didn't recognize any of the songs, none of the anthems and songs that we grew up with and associate with Christmas. It's a different tradition here; Christmas Day is 7 January, gift giving is usually on New Year's eve, and the frenzy and commercialism of a prolonged season is much less pronounced.

Icy rain started to fall, and the program began. Some songs, a visit from their Santa, very elegant, and then voila, the tree lit up the night! It was as spectular as seeing the lighting of the White House tree in Washington, DC. I met Nick and some of his friends at the tree. Nick is helping with the design work on my 2011Starobelsk calender, which I've decided to make my "Starobelsk Memories."

After the tree is lit, the tradition is to dance around the tree, so Nick and I joined the circle and went around, laughing and singing in the snowy, icey rain. Nothing could dampen the joy of the moment. The Christmas season in Starobelsk, Ukraine.

Tonya's Pigs: A Christmas Story

At Tonya's farm this summer.

Remember those cute little pigs I saw when Olga

and I visited Tonya at her farm in Kurychevka?

Well today I bought some.

Yes, Tonya and her husband came to town with a carload of fresh pork and had a good sale in the back of Natala's shop. All freshly butchered, cleaned and packaged. I feel I had a small hand in this exchange because Tonya and Natalia met through me, when Olga was looking for a new place for me to stay in town. Lots of good connections, and good cheer, came out of it!

Neighbors, friends and customers of Natalia's came and got all the fresh meat they wanted for the winter. Stocked up. Natalia bought tons of pork herself to freeze and take to her family in Kyiv for the holidays. And Tonya and her husband Vlad went home with enough cash to see them through the winter.

Natural friesh meat! Ukrainians care a lot about natural foods, from produce to meat. They want to know if any fertilizer or other stuff has been added to the ground or fed to the animals. Tonya assured all customers the pigs were well fed with only the best food. I myself fed apples and corn to those little pigs, and to the big fat ones too, along with handfuls of fresh grain.

Now that I am at Natalia's and cooking for myself mostly, I've bought chicken and meat at the supermarket. It's been tasteless and unedible and I told that to Natalia when she saw me feeding it to the cat. "Is it okay for the cat?" I asked. "Yes, but why not eat it yourself?" "Because it doesn't taste good." That's when she told me Tonya was coming with her pig meat, and would be having a sale at the back of her shop. I was delighted, though my first thought was of those little pigs running around in circles and looking quite loveable. To think they would now be on the dinner tables of Starobelsk!

Today, when Tonya was busy selling the meat and it was my turn to buy, I turned to Natalia for help. I had never bought pork like this, kind of knowing the pigs personally as it were, and wasn't sure what I wanted. I asked Natalia to get what she wanted and I would pay for it. She told Tonya the story of my meat-buying experience and said "Даже не кошка съест мясо она дала." They laughed and laughed. Tonya translated. Natalia said "not even the cat would eat the meat you gave her!"

I love seeing Tonya laugh. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkle and the worry lines on her face soften. Life is hard for Tonya, with the few hryvnia she brings home from teaching and her husband and two adult sons working on the farm but basically unemployed. The products of the farm have become more and more important to sustaining the family. So this day brought a Merry Christmas to Tonya, and I felt glad for it.

Snow fell on the town, soft and lovely. Spirits were high. Selling and buying were brisk and upbeat. Scenes of holiday sharing danced in my head. And I thought, with a song in my heart: This is the best kind of Christmas.

More Photos from Children's House of Culture

These are great photos of the kids; the visiting Mayor from Poland, bearing gifts; Alosha with the Mayor and young boy; and Elena and a beautiful young voice student, so I added them here. And I cropped the snow-covered evergreen to show off it's beauty.

The joys of the season!

The Children's House of Culture in a Winter Wonderland

Upper left: The Mayor of a town in Poland, visiting Starobelsk, with Alosha and a young talent. Upper right: voice teacher extraordinaire Elena and a student; the choir in traditional dress; bottom: me and the mayor from Poland in a warm international greeting, and at right, Olga enjoying the music, and a respite from visits to her 78-year-old mother in a Lugansk hospital.

I walked through a winter wonderland on my way to a special concert for a visiting Mayor from Poland at the Children's House of Culture. This is the art center for the children of Starobelsk, with lots of after-school activities along with dancing, art, drama and singing lessons.

It had snowed the night before and our town was white. Fluffy snow covered housetops and tree branches. The evergreens looked lovely dressed in white. I even spotted a decorated Christmas tree on my way to the Children's center. It's a Charlie Brown sort of tree, standing proudly in its Christmas finery among the other trees.

I arrived as the singing started. The choir was composed of the students of noted voice teacher Elena. She's magnificent and dedicated, and so are her students. They sounded beautiful, singing a medley of songs from Poland, America, and Ukraine. They looked beautiful, too, dressed in traditional Ukrainian style, the girls with garlands

of flowers in their hair and the only boy, my dear young friend from the English Club, Alosha, in a beautiful embroidered shirt and yellow sash, a tall and handsome 16-year-old full of talent and determined to use it.

After the concert the visiting Mayor presented the arts center with a holiday gift of a new DVD and video player. It was a happy occasion.

I walked home with the sounds of children's songs filling my head, scenes of winter filling my senses, and the holiday spirit filling my heart. I felt blessed.

P.S. I just found out about this visiting Mayor from Poland, who I thought was the Mayor of Starobelsk. So much for my Russian language, but hey, it's нормалд'но! It explains the Polish songs, too. Many Poles come to Starobelsk to visit the site, at the Monestary, and memorial of slain Polish officers during and after World War II.

A Memorial Bench for Loren

I’ve been communicating from Ukraine with the Florida Trails Association (FTA) and its stalwart worker Howard Pardue about building a memorial bench for Loren on one of his favorite hiking trails. The bench will be in Loren’s memory from Andy and me. It will be a place to rest along a trail, to contemplate nature’s beauty, to relax and reflect. Some parks and wildlife areas have a memorial bench program as a way for donors to remember loved ones and contribute to the cause.

That’s what I hope a memorial bench will do for the Florida Trails Asssociation. It’s a new thing for them. I hope it sets a good precedent. It's been an interesting process, to develop a design and get approval for it. It's still in the pipeline awaiting final approval.

Loren was hiking on the Aucilla River with friends of the FTA when he fell to the ground and collapsed. He died doing what he loved to do, sometimes my only solace. Members of the FTA went for help, handled the details in what was for them a traumatic situation, and they have been attentive ever since. They held a memorial book signing for Loren’s autobiography, An Asperger Journey. Andy and Loren's friend Tim read passages. Many members have since told us how much the book has meant to them, and how much better they understand Loren after reading it. Howard said he felt Loren needed special attention from time to time, and now he's glad he could give it, and would have done even more if he had known the full story.

There are many ways to remember Loren. He had so many interests, so many passions. This will be one way, a place to pray and meditate in a spot on the earth that he loved.

It seems to be a human need to have a special place to go to remember, a place to put flowers, say a prayer, pour out one’s heart and one’s hopes, look for signs of a soul. After Loren was cremated and his apartment dismantled--things saved, thrown away, given away, and donated--it felt like there was nothing left. It felt so forlorn, so empty, so hopeless. There was no place to turn.

For me Loren’s memorial bench will be that place. It will be Loren's sacred place on earth, his spot, forever. I hope to visit often, but it won't matter if I go or not; I will know it's there, that Loren is there.

Library Announces New English Book Collection

Starobelsk Rayon Library
News Release – December 2010
Contact: Iryna Andreenova, director

On a roll, thanks to you!

Library Announces New English Book Collection

The Starobelsk Rayon Library announces its new English-language book collection. It is ready to use! A celebration was held on 11 December at the Library.

The collection of almost 300 books was made possible through a Peace Corps Partnership Grant and the donation of $900 (7200 UAH) from friends in America. Friends of the Library in Toledo, Ohio, donated 4 boxes of books to begin the collection.

"We are pleased to have these books, and thank our American friends," said Iryna Andreenova, director of the Library. “We invite the community, teachers and students, and adults who want to view or borrow English books to visit this fantastic collection.”

There are grammars, dictionaries, reference works, and language-learning books for all levels, as well as histories, literature, poetry, classic English and American literature, modern fiction, wonderful children’s literature, and some videos.

Visit the Library and expand your world. Browse through the English book collection and take home a book to read yourself or to read to a child. And Happy New Year from the Library.

Plain Amerikankas at a Ms. Universe Contest

Suzanne called in frustration to tell me about another last minute meeting she had to attend: “They just grabbed me and said I had to come. I had no idea what they talked about for over an hour, although I did know it was about HIV/AIDS. I had not done a thing with myself except pull on jeans and brush my teeth and there I sat in a room full of women dressed like mothers of the bride!”

I knew what she meant. That was the day the library called me at 12:30 to say I must be there at 1:30 to celebrate the 10th anniversary of poet Ivan Savich's death. I sympathized. "Yeah, I've been to plenty of those meetings, looking a wreck and not understanding much to boot." I used the analagy of being a plain Amerikanka at a Ms. Universe contest. We laughed knowingly at the image.

At a seminar at the university last week I stood out yet again. Besides my blue shiny winter coat, which you know is not considered fashionable, my pants were too baggy, my black shoes unpolished and worse, clunky, like combat boots (photo right), and the only makeup I wore was a little lipstick, applied in a hurry.

I think some of our Ukrainian colleagues feel sorry for the Amerikankas in their midst, who don't understand anything and don't measure up when it comes to standards of beauty, style, fashion, and good shoes, meaning (very) high heels and pointy toes. A misfit in a room full of mothers of the bride? A frumpy old maid at a Ms. Universe contest? We PCVs sometimes have it rough. Ah, Ukraine! So many beautiful women, impeccably dressed, and so little hope of our measuring up!

Suzanne and I think some things are “engrained Ukraine." It might be hard finding common ground in the political arena, or a united national identity, but the bonds of fashion and lifestyle are strong, very strong. Engained Ukraine. If only we could transfer this strong sense of style to the political scene. Ukraine would take off like a rocket in high heels, mixed metaphor intended!

Healthy Living Project Update

Fast turnaround from Peace Corps headquarters with news I did not want to hear: I don't have time to do another Partnership grant. I suspected as much, with only 5 months left to go here. It's okay. There's a reason for everything. We will have to come up with other options. Thanks to those of you who expressed interest.

I will continue to work with Sergei to see if there are some local solutions that will help him carry on his Healthy Living project. Perhaps he could do a public program at the Library, introduce his idea and materials, spread the word. Perhaps Vera at Victoria NGO has some ideas, or can lend a hand. Perhaps there are social organizations that would be interested, like the Cossacks Club. I learned about this club from PCV Mike Young at dinner the night before he returned to the States after a successful 2-year tour of duty teaching English at the University.

I'd like to know more about the Cossacks Club, so we shall see. The need for prevention and public education about HIV/Aids, safe sex, alcoholism and drug abuse, the porn lifestyle, won't go away. Such a project will improve Starbelsk's quality of life, indeed, save lives. Something will come through. I'm confident Starobelsk will get another Community Development PCV after I leave. I feel good that I could help lay the groundwork for that. If nothing else, I'll leave him or her with a possible "to do" list to consider! All the best from Sergei, and Starobelsk.

December

The  Church of the Monestary, Starobelsk, in December.  

December blew in like the roar of a lion, the Lion of Winter: wind and cold and falling temperatures, icy puddles and hazardous walking. A few nights ago, while the town was sleeping, we had our first snow. I looked out the window and discovered whiteness all around. Very pretty, a dusting of snow over rooftops, trees, and streets. It was also bitter cold, probably about -10 celsius, about 15 F. Winter blew in from Kiev, via Europe, which was blanketed in snow. At one point the Kiev airport was closed, not good news for those of us traveling in a few weeks. Let's hope we just have normal winter weather and the airports stay open.

December has become grant month at Victoria's. We finished the application to the Ambassador's Fund for Cultural Preservation for the project to preserve the ancient decorative folk paintings of the Slobovodya region (last blog). Now we're working on the second one, a Democracy Grant to the U.S. Embassy. Like the preservation project, I'm working from Vera's Ukrainian translation and revision of my first draft in English, and it's really a challenge. The project aims to expand and sustain the "Know Your Rights!" project (booklet at left) and build a strong Community Resource Center where people have access to information and help. Vera also wants to start a crisis hotline, an ambitious goal. I hope this application gets done next week, before I leave for Kyiv and Egypt, weather permitting, God willing. Vera's project is really important. No one else is doing what Vera is doing in the human rights and local government transparency areas in this part of Lugansk oblast. And the situation is getting worse.

December is the deadline for reading and rating Edmund Muskie Fellowship applications from Ukrainian students who want to do graduate work in the U.S. It's a great opportunity for young activist students who want to learn modern methods and best practices in public administration, public governance or NGO/nonprofit management (the latter a new field in the former Soviet republics). This is the first time I've been a reader and I found it fascinating. I wanted to give high scores to all the applicants (I read 54 applications), but it's a highly competitive program. Out of 200 or more applicants in Ukraine alone only 15 are selected, the best and the brightest (Muskie fellows are from all the NIS, Newly Independent States.) These students will become the future leaders of Ukraine, and that is what gives so much hope.

These kinds of programs can be transforming. For example, Georgia is far ahead of Ukraine in economic transformation, fighting corruption, and instituting transparent governance. On every index and economic and political indicator Georgia is at the top of all NIS countries, Ukraine near the bottom. Why? According to Alexa Chopivsky, in "Can Ukraine Follow Georgia's Lead in Reforms?" (FreeEurope/RadioLiberty, rferi.org/articleprintview/2232963.html), it's because, in part, Georgia's young leaders, starting at the top with president Mikhail Saakashvili, have studied abroad, they speak several languages, they are open to new ideas, and they are adapting modern practices to government. Saakashvili himself, 42, studied at Columbia University Law School in NYC, the International Institute of Human Rights in Strasbourg, and George Washington University in DC. It is a sharp contrast to the current leadership of Ukraine, which today "remains partly unchanged from the 1990s and in in some cases, Soviet times."

So exchange programs like the Muskie Fellowships, while not a panaea, certainly give broader opportunities to bright and talented young people in Ukraine and hope for positive change. There are many similar opportunities in countries throughout Europe. My friend Vovo is earning an MA in city management in Sweden; others I know are studying at universities in Berlin, Amsterdam, in Poland, Belgium, and other countries. Leaders who have studied in Beijing and Hong Kong, like the president of Kazakhstan, are also making a difference. It all adds up to an interesting process in the complex question of change and reform. The Muskie Fellowships are an important part of the hope for change.

December in Starobelsk is just another month, and so far not even the Christmas Tree in front of the Cultural Center is up. It's something to look forward to. This year, living in the center, I'll be able to walk a block to watch the lighting of the tree, an awesome sight no matter where you are in the world. My favorite bookstore, where the manager and workers are always as happy see me as I am to see them, has stocked up on Christmas decorations this year. My face lit up when I saw them. “Oh, these are beautiful,” I exclaimed! The store manager stood next to me, smiling. He handed me a little ornament and said “Here, for you.” “Oh, no, I can’t take that.” “A present,” he said. I plan to go back in a few days to buy some ornaments for our English Club tree.

December at the English Club means talking about holidays and Chanukah and Christmas, making decorations for our holiday tree, and learning and singing Christmas carols, because they bring back so many memories of childhood and Christmases with my kids. My dad would be playing Christmas music now. Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby would be serenading us. We would be seeing another version of the ever-stalwart "Nutcracker.” We would be buying and wrapping presents to put under the tree. The tree would be full of lights and covered with new and antique ornaments, with Mom's exquisite antique angel, ever youthful, adorning the top. It's such a nostalgic and beautiful time of year, a time when I miss home and family more than ever.

December also means six months to go in my term of service with the Peace Corps in Ukraine. It means a trip to Kiev for a mandatory health exam and a flu shot and for closing two grants (the Small Project Assistance Grant and the Partnership Grant). It means a trip to Egypt. It means Christmas in Kiev with a niece of Jud’s, whose husband is with the army or foreign service, and then flying to Cairo the day after Christmas. It means New Year’s eve in Luxor on the Nile. We plan a night and a meal under the stars in the desert. Sounds like an Arabian dream.

December! The last month of the year, full of enough activities, special holidays, and hope to spin us off into the future. Like the Lion of Winter, December sends us off into a new year with a blast of energy, a force of nature, the blessings of the season.

Preserving Ancient Decorative Painting

Painting by Elena Flyat (елена флят), a modern rendition of ancient techniques, images and symbols of Arts Slobodskoy. Elena is a master of the tradition.

Vera and I just finished a grant application to the U.S. Ambassador's Cultural Preservation Fund for the project "Ancient Decorative Paintings of the Slobodskoy Region" (now Lugansk Oblast). It was a huge challenge, translating Vera's Ukrainian into English and refining and revising the narrative for clarity. Natalia Dohadailo, English teacher extraordinaire at the university, helped. A few late nights helped, too. But it's all worth it. The purpose of the project is the collection, preservation and promotion of an indigenous folk art tradition. I love the project because cultural preservation is desparately needed in eastern Ukraine, and folk art painting is in danger of extinction.

Much of the cultural heritage of Ukraine was suppressed, denied and almost obliterated under Soviet rule, more so in the East than in the West. Artists, poets, writers, craftsmen, East and West, were imprisoned for what was called "nationalist tendencies," meaning a devotion to Ukrainian tradition rather than exclusive allegiance to the Soviet regime. Local poet Ivan Savich, for example, was sent to the Gulag for 8 years. His crime: writing in the Ukrainian language, focusing on Ukrainian themes and traditions, showing a love of Ukrainian culture.

Yet these indigenous, unique artistic traditions and crafts, in this case specifically the antique paintings of old masters on precious and everyday items, from wedding chests to household items, tell us much about Ukrainian heritage and history. The folk art embodies amazing stories and symbols that need to be collected, preserved and shared.They need to become part of a national Ukrainian heritage.

I have seen some of the items painted by old masters using ancient techniques and unique patterns, and they are beautiful. They reveal the talent and daily life of ancestors who called this region home. They have much to share with the present.

Master painter and creative artist Elena Flyat, with the help of NGO VIctoria, is devoting her time, hard work and creative energy to keeping this tradition alive. Elena paints in the tradition, updating but adhering to the techniques of the old paintings and the symbols embedded in them. I have given some of Elena's paintings as presents to my family, bringing a bit of Ukraine back home.

Why is preserving the ancient folk art painting of eastern Ukraine so important? Because I believe, with Elena and Vera, that these kinds of projects contribute to the ongoing transformation of Ukraine into a proud modern nation built on the foundations of an incredible indigenous culture.

Such projects are needed now, more than ever, as Ukraine struggles to find its identity and embrace the future. Here is some narrative from our grant application explaining the importance and value of Arts Slobodskoy, and presenting some interesting history of Starobelsk and Lugansk.

This project aims to promote the revival and preservation of ancient decorative painting and increase interest in indigenous folk art traditions in the Starobelsk area and Luhansk region. It will also uncover and promote the creative ability of local artists. Preserving cultural treasures is a critical aspect of creating a unified democratic Ukraine bound by ties of culture and tradition. Unfortunately, preservation and promotion of cultural heritage is not a priority, especially in Eastern Ukraine, where it is most needed.

Our city has an interesting past and historical roots of popular and applied art, although it is largely unknown and unhearalded. Starobelsk is the ancient merchant town and cultural and commercial center of the region. Every year since 1824 the city has held four large folklife fairs. Touring merchants from Moscow, Tula, Voronizhu, Kharkiv, and Poltava traded goods to buy local grain, honey, flour, and butter. There was also a great demand for folk art painted by the old masters: pottery, chests, furniture, and goods for household consumption.

In today's Starobelsk there are 20,000 inhabitants and in the region 50,000 thousand, but there are no more masters who created and fully owned the ancient technique of painting. Products of these artists have made the Slobodskoy region special and attractive. In remote villages you can still find ancient painted chests, cabinets, tables, utensils, and household consumer goods in the homes of distant relatives of the old masters, the remaining particles of ancient skills and knowledge of ancient technology. They can also be found in slum dwellings of Lugansk towns and cities, hidden in old houses mostly by chance, a discarded chest here, a bowl there.

These rare and hard-to-find items are fast disappearing; they require research, diligent searching, analyzing for authenticity, documenting and recording. Lack of interest and funding from local authorities for the revival and preservation of our cultural heritage will lead to the final disappearance of this unique tradition. These painted items, precious treasures of our shared past, need to be recovered now, or they will be lost forever.