The Fourth Toast

I was freezing my ass off.  It was the first day of my two week sojourn through Ukraine. My bus failed to arrive.  Finally, I made my way to the hotel where I habitually stay while in Lwow.   

After an overnight train ride, all I could hope for was a few hours of sleep. My first Rotary presentation wasn’t until the next day. One of my professors assigned me two multi-page research reports, as I would be missing class. Quite annoyed, I started into the first of the reports and finished the next day. Then, I rushed to the Rotary meeting.

My first presentation went well.  At first I was surprised that there was no meal before my presentation. Then I found out why. “After the meeting we usually have a reception” one Rotarian told me. Then came a difficult choice: Vodka or Cognac?

Here I first learned of a Ukrainian tradition: Making toasts. We began by toasting Rotary, then friendship. The third toast was to women. I later heard that women cut men’s ties if the third toast isn’t for them. After that “just some words” are all that’s needed. It’s the exercise of the toast that’s important. “Without toasting its just booze” my Lwow contact informed me.

 A similarly ‘toasted’ Rotarian drove me back to my hotel.  I felt a renewed happiness to be in the moment. It washed away the difficult circumstances of my arrival.

This feeling prevailed through the rest of my trip. My presentation in Alushta was made over more than a few shots of grapa.  Afterwards, a resort owner insisted that I stay at his establishment. It was closed for the summer. The restaurant was opened for me every morning .

I rented a car in Crimea. There, got to feel the exhilaration of Ukrainian driving - passing on curves and barreling down narrow streets. One such avenue led to the famous Liavadia palace. It was a serene experience to walk in the footsteps of Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin.

Later, I met with Yalta’s Rotaract. They saw to it that my car was loaded down with more local wines than the passenger seat could hold. I was beginning to like this country.  

Yet, it’s still marked by it Ruso-communist past. This doesn’t stop at the stereotypical boozing.  In central-eastern Europe, or even Moscow, you must attend an exhibit to see Soviet monuments.  In eastern Ukraine Lenin still greets you in the main square.  

This part of the country is ethnically Russian.  Many don’t agree with communist political beliefs. They view these symbols as monuments of a time when Russia ruled the roost. In Yalta, the younger generation wished that the statues would be removed.  “We are Russian speaking, but I don’t like the Russians who come here” one opined.

 I didn’t get the chance to finish my presentation in Charkow. They stopped me.  Someone poured the vodka. It was the easiest money I’d ever earned.

The express to Kiev traveled at over 160 KPH. That wasn’t why I couldn’t get my bearings. As I made my way to the nation’s capital, I wondered really constituted Ukraine. I’d seen the four corners of the country. Despite a soviet commonality, it felt like I was in different countries for the whole trip.

I was still freezing my ass off as I walked the hills of Kiev. But, this time it was with a new respect of the levity that it entailed. The similar diversity of a nation constructed from its past. 

Out In The Cold

I stepped off the train.  Masses of people waited to greet their arriving family and friends. My host was not among them.  I headed down the stairs to the train station’s main hall. My host was waiting there. His first comment was about my clothing.

 When I left Wroclaw, I put on long pants and brought a sweater along with me. According to my host this was woefully inadequate. Yet, I wasn’t cold. I found the mild chill of the 10 degree weather invigorating.  My host couldn’t believe this. He insisted that I take a spare coat when we arrived at his car.

We arrived at his apartment. He commented on my manner of dress. “You are wearing summer pants and shoes” he admonished.   I was raised in southern California. I’d never heard of clothes being designated for summer or winter.  He informed me about the differences. Apparently, winter clothes have thicker materials.

After a quick dinner, I met with younger representatives from the organization which gave me my scholarship.  Some of them were exchange students.  Others were Polish.  Overcoats were an absolute necessity. When one student forgot her gloves it was a major crisis.  I only had a sweater.  Over the course of the evening, many asked me if I was cold. They seemed not to believe when I told them I was not.

I returned to my hosts’ flat.  We discussed the cold over Lithuanian vodka. Speaking Polish, my host and his wife insisted that they help me buy some winter clothes. I told them that I had warmer clothing. It just wasn’t cold enough to use it.  They also didn’t believe me. How could anyone want to subject themselves to any lack of heat?

Whatever climate you are raised in determines your attitude toward winter.  In warmer ones heat is the enemy. Upon entering any building you immediately feel a blast of cold air. The opposite is true in cooler regions. The heat is stifling. I felt like I was in a desert when in my hosts’ apartment.

My host gave me a sweater when I left Lodz. He insisted that I could not possibly be warm enough. I boarded the train; blast of heat hit me. I was down to a t-shirt within five minutes.

 I haven’t turned on the radiators in my own flat. The heating began on about a month ago at my university.

 I was on my way to class last week. Two of my fellow students met me as I entered the campus. One was from Brazil. The other was from Canada. The Brazilian and I weren’t wearing coats.  The Canadian was shocked that we could survive the weather.

We crossed into a building and the heat hit us.  By the time we’d reached the classroom we’d started to complain. “I’m going to die in this country” My Brazilian counterpart said “November in Poland and I’m sweating!” The Canadian had no problems.

Many claim to be acclimatized to the region where they live.  This is true. But, not in the way people think. The temperature you were formed in makes you more critical of its existence. More tolerant of it’s opposite.