Navigating through Ukraine is not easy when one has a weak grasp of Russian. I thought my knowledge of Russian was good enough to get me by here until I actually arrived. I found this out shortly after arriving in my destination city. I took a marshrutka from Odessa, a trip of around 2.5 hours, and was absolutely exhausted by the time I got off. To be honest, I'm not even sure exactly where I had ended up. The only thing I knew was that I was somewhere within the city, but at 9pm at night, it's hard to get one's bearings when one has been without sleep for almost a full 24 hours.
Standing on a dark street corner with a full suitcase and luggage and not able to figure out where the hell you are is a bit of a frightening experience. All I saw around me were sidewalk kiosks that were closed for the night, and groups of guys outfitted in the latest Russian street thug fashion (track suits, beanies, and pointy-tipped dress shoes) roaming around. Thankfully, a middle aged woman was kind enough to humor my poor attempt at speaking Russian, and was able to understand enough of it to walk me to the next street over to find a marshrutka heading to where I needed to be.
For those who have never been on a Ukrainian marshrutka before, let me say that your first time is an experience you'll never forget, and not in a good way. Regardless of how long your stay on the marshrutka will be, you will most likely experience nearly 3 accidents while the driver tests the limits of the brakes. You will experience all of this while either sitting in an extremely cramped seat meant for someone half your size (if you're lucky), or standing in the aisle, holding onto the hand bar for dear life while your feet slip out from under you every 30 seconds.
Once my second harrowing experience on a marshrutka ended, I found myself on the main central street of the city, looking for the office of the school that was to be my new employer. Again, wandering around on a dark street asking everyone "Vy govorite po-angliyskiy?" ("Do you speak English?" in Russian) isn't for the faint-of-heart. A good samaritan, armed with a rudimentary grasp of English and a map program on his smartphone, helped me find the office, only to find out it was close. Ok, no problem. I then wandered the streets (still carrying my backpack and suitcase, of course) until another good samaritan helped me find the closest "gostinitsa" (hotel). Well, at least I thought he was a good samaritan until he asked me for money afterwards. The slurred speech and strong smell of alcohol should have tipped me off, but thankfully, he was happy with the 3 gryvna I gave him. I then checked in for the night, showered, let everyone back home know I was safe and sound, and then slipped into an exhaustion-induced coma.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
The Arrival
Arriving in Ukraine was a bit of a surreal experience. I spent a total of around 24 hours traveling, if you include the time spent on layovers. Actually, it would be more if you count the marshrutka ride from Odessa to my destination city.
I flew a 5 hour flight from a city in the western half of the US to New York City, and slept the entire flight. Something like this is rare, as I always have difficulty with sleeping on planes. I think I nodded off shortly after take-off, and woke up around the time the plane was touching down in New York. I certainly didn't mind sleeping on that flight, but given a choice, I would've picked the next flight.
The flight from New York to Moscow was by far the longest amount of time I've ever spent on an airplane, and probably also one of the worst. The flight was on Russia's state-owned national airline, Aeroflot, as they had the cheapest tickets. I can't say the problem was so much the aircraft, which was an Airbus A330, but damn, the seats were very cramped. Or at least the one I sat in. My knees were pressed firmly into the back of the seat in front of me for the entire flight, and I was unable to sleep a wink. The service by the steward, a burly Russian man with minimal English skills who apparently forgot how to smile sometime prior to the fall of the Soviet Union, didn't so much ask for your order as much as demand it. I will say this, though, they kept the food and drinks coming pretty much non-stop, and didn't charge for any of it. I'll take that over a smiling overweight stewardess asking you to make it rain just to get some water anyday.
Despite the discomfort of my seat, the flight went smoothly, and was made all that much more so by a large video display that showed the progress of the aircraft. That was a nice feature that I'd love to see on more airlines. After 9 hours, the plane touched down in Moscow, and I was able to strech my legs and amuse the customs agents with my horrible Russian while waiting for the connecting flight to Odessa.
Arriving in Odessa was oddly similar to how I imagined it was like flying to the Soviet Union back in the day. The trip to Odessa went smoothly, and my seat was much more comfortable. However, by the time we touched down, I was having trouble staying awake. However, as soon as the plane stopped, we were promptly disembarked from the plane and herded towards a waiting bus, which was to take us to the terminal. After an uncomfo rtably long wait on the bus, we were driven to the customs building and then herded into neat, orderly lines. All of the passengers were deathly quiet, leading to an ominous feeling that was added to by the grimaces of the customs agents.
When my turn finally came, the short but very cute girl behind the desk wordlessly took my passport and immigration card, and spent about 5 minutes doing something that I couldn't discern. Then, strangely, with what appeared to be a smile and a subtle wink, she handed both back to me, and in English welcomed me to Ukraine.
I flew a 5 hour flight from a city in the western half of the US to New York City, and slept the entire flight. Something like this is rare, as I always have difficulty with sleeping on planes. I think I nodded off shortly after take-off, and woke up around the time the plane was touching down in New York. I certainly didn't mind sleeping on that flight, but given a choice, I would've picked the next flight.
The flight from New York to Moscow was by far the longest amount of time I've ever spent on an airplane, and probably also one of the worst. The flight was on Russia's state-owned national airline, Aeroflot, as they had the cheapest tickets. I can't say the problem was so much the aircraft, which was an Airbus A330, but damn, the seats were very cramped. Or at least the one I sat in. My knees were pressed firmly into the back of the seat in front of me for the entire flight, and I was unable to sleep a wink. The service by the steward, a burly Russian man with minimal English skills who apparently forgot how to smile sometime prior to the fall of the Soviet Union, didn't so much ask for your order as much as demand it. I will say this, though, they kept the food and drinks coming pretty much non-stop, and didn't charge for any of it. I'll take that over a smiling overweight stewardess asking you to make it rain just to get some water anyday.
Despite the discomfort of my seat, the flight went smoothly, and was made all that much more so by a large video display that showed the progress of the aircraft. That was a nice feature that I'd love to see on more airlines. After 9 hours, the plane touched down in Moscow, and I was able to strech my legs and amuse the customs agents with my horrible Russian while waiting for the connecting flight to Odessa.
Arriving in Odessa was oddly similar to how I imagined it was like flying to the Soviet Union back in the day. The trip to Odessa went smoothly, and my seat was much more comfortable. However, by the time we touched down, I was having trouble staying awake. However, as soon as the plane stopped, we were promptly disembarked from the plane and herded towards a waiting bus, which was to take us to the terminal. After an uncomfo rtably long wait on the bus, we were driven to the customs building and then herded into neat, orderly lines. All of the passengers were deathly quiet, leading to an ominous feeling that was added to by the grimaces of the customs agents.
When my turn finally came, the short but very cute girl behind the desk wordlessly took my passport and immigration card, and spent about 5 minutes doing something that I couldn't discern. Then, strangely, with what appeared to be a smile and a subtle wink, she handed both back to me, and in English welcomed me to Ukraine.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Where am I? What am I doing here?
Let me introduce myself. My name is not important. My job is not important. Most things about me are not important. However, I'll tell you a few things about myself anyway.
I'm an American who decided to brave life outside of the cozy confines on the US for a while. For me, life in America had become a bit of a drag. I've worked in IT for the better part of two decades, and I decided a few years back that I needed to shake a few things up. Years ago, I somehow came across the blog of a fellow who taught English in Russia for almost an entire decade. Also, a good friend of mine had spent a number of years teaching English in Japan. Back during those days, I figured that doing such an exotic (and shitty) job was merely just a dream, while I toiled away in my dreary cubicle and dreamt of foreign lands (and women).
Fast forward a few years. I ended up finding myself in a very bad place, both mentally and physically. I resorted to my last option, which was to move back in with my parents, and spent the next several years recovering from my numerous failures in life. During that time, I set a goal for myself. I wanted to do something with my life, something that would be interesting and fun, and take me out of my comfort zone.
The dreams of living in a foreign land and fucking foreign women came flooding back. I decided to work on climbing out of debt and despair, and completed a certification course for teaching English. I looked for English teaching jobs online, and found the website of a language school in Ukraine. I corresponded with the owner of the school, got advice on how to prepare for the job, and then set about getting myself ready.
After almost two full years of hard work, here I am. I'm living in southern Ukraine, in a city that shall remain nameless, and I'm now teaching English for a pittance of a salary. And yes, I'm also fucking foreign women. Or "woman", I should say, but more on that later.
I'm an American who decided to brave life outside of the cozy confines on the US for a while. For me, life in America had become a bit of a drag. I've worked in IT for the better part of two decades, and I decided a few years back that I needed to shake a few things up. Years ago, I somehow came across the blog of a fellow who taught English in Russia for almost an entire decade. Also, a good friend of mine had spent a number of years teaching English in Japan. Back during those days, I figured that doing such an exotic (and shitty) job was merely just a dream, while I toiled away in my dreary cubicle and dreamt of foreign lands (and women).
Fast forward a few years. I ended up finding myself in a very bad place, both mentally and physically. I resorted to my last option, which was to move back in with my parents, and spent the next several years recovering from my numerous failures in life. During that time, I set a goal for myself. I wanted to do something with my life, something that would be interesting and fun, and take me out of my comfort zone.
The dreams of living in a foreign land and fucking foreign women came flooding back. I decided to work on climbing out of debt and despair, and completed a certification course for teaching English. I looked for English teaching jobs online, and found the website of a language school in Ukraine. I corresponded with the owner of the school, got advice on how to prepare for the job, and then set about getting myself ready.
After almost two full years of hard work, here I am. I'm living in southern Ukraine, in a city that shall remain nameless, and I'm now teaching English for a pittance of a salary. And yes, I'm also fucking foreign women. Or "woman", I should say, but more on that later.
Beginnings
Yes, this is yet another blog from yet another American expat who has become yet another TEFL tradesman. This blog shall remain anonymous, for reasons that I probably don't need to explain. This is just a simple way for me to blow off steam while providing some mild entertainment to those few who are brave enough to venture to these parts.
I'll provide a simple warning here: if you are easily offended, you'd best find yourself another blog to read. My views are not mainstream, and I'll pull no punches here. Anything I say can and probably will be held against me, but don't expect me to give a fuck.
Having said the above...if you're interested in reading the musings of an eccentric expat living in a post-Soviet shithole, then feel free to stick around. Anyone who is interested in the former Soviet Union may find something of interest here. Anyone who is interested in women from the former Soviet Union will probably find a shitload of interesting things here. So...stick around, and prepare to be shocked, titillated, and horrified, and not necessarily in that order.
I'll provide a simple warning here: if you are easily offended, you'd best find yourself another blog to read. My views are not mainstream, and I'll pull no punches here. Anything I say can and probably will be held against me, but don't expect me to give a fuck.
Having said the above...if you're interested in reading the musings of an eccentric expat living in a post-Soviet shithole, then feel free to stick around. Anyone who is interested in the former Soviet Union may find something of interest here. Anyone who is interested in women from the former Soviet Union will probably find a shitload of interesting things here. So...stick around, and prepare to be shocked, titillated, and horrified, and not necessarily in that order.
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