The Most Ridiculous Show on Earth

Above, top to bottom: Young circus fans watch as a the trapeze artist balances atop a metal pole at the "Circ" in Lviv, Ukraine on February 27th, 2009; these pictures pretty much speak for themselves. I thought I might be saddened by dancing bears, but it was hilarious; an interesting cultural difference, these are the gymnasts who held aloft metal poles while the girl on the right performed on them. The gentleman on the far left is wearing a mock Yamaka, and they played yiddish-sounding music when he climbed up one of the poles, clearly meant to be Jew of the act, and thus the Ukrainian scapegoat. The other two men are dressed like Russian sailors, with the implication that all three are clowns and womanizers; the Poodle cha-cha.

Last week I had the privilege of attending the Ukrainian circus, commonly mistaken for the Ukrainian Parliament. The debacle was held inside a circular concrete structure that looked like the MetroDome, sans football and beer. The only public entertainment events I've attended so far have been operas, dances, and orchestras, which are dirt cheap and full of culture.

But then I saw the posters for the Ukrainian Circus, beckoning with dancing bears in clown costumes and a line of cha-cha-ing poodles waving their paws. It was catnip. I had to go.

I've always wanted kids and I have a special love for big families since my mother comes from a family of nine. But when I walked into a circus arena filled with 2000 screaming children, I realized I was not quite ready for the responsibility of cleaning a nacho-cheese covered toddler eating cotton candy. At least, I was not ready for the class of seven year olds that kept climbing over my knees during the performance.

The Ukrainian circus is a bit like real life in Ukraine, but with clown costumes and gymnastics.

It was mostly a normal circus, but I don't ever remember bears being a big part of Barnum & Bailey's routine. As I sat near the top row of circus, peering through my 200mm lens at the floor below, I was convinced the bear running out on stage on two legs and doing summersaults was a guy in a bear suit.

Almost certainly a bear from the Carpathians or from Russia, these brown bears were big, but closer to six feet when standing on their hind legs. The rode motorcycles, juggled fire on their feet while riding on the back of an All Terrain Vehicle, danced and walked a high beam.

Other crowd favorites were the cat that suicide-jumped off a 30-foot pole into a blanket, the clown that threw a fake rat into the audience and almost caused a stampede, mullet-sporting trapeze artists, and a muscle-man/gymnast who did an interpretive ballet version of the Iron Cross to the Eurythmics. Bravo.

One act I didn't get to see that day was Brett's personal favorite: the parachuting puppies. That's right, miniature "Benji" dogs climb a series of ladders to the top of the arena, and then run and jump off a ramp, seeming to fall some 200 feet to their death until a parachute opens. I laughed so hard I cried, but I would love to photograph it.

Death of a friend

"Camera?" I said, motioning to my bag and looking at Sasha with pleading eyes.

Sasha turned and translated my request to Brother Jaroslav, the 23-year old monk who was hosting us. After a brief exchange, Sasha turned to me and shook his head.

"He's almost dead, you know?"

I scuttled down the hall after Sasha and Jaroslav[Yaro-slav], as the smiling brother opened a door just 3 rooms down from where I had been sleeping. The silence of a universally recognized stench hit us as we entered the inner room. It was more than just urine or the familiar stink of sweat, this smell was unique to the dying.

Not once had Jaroslav's impervious smile left his face during our three days at Univ Monastery, not once had he frowned or winced with the frustration of our American ways or our terrible Ukrainian. But in that room, as the three of us stood around the bed of Ananina, we looked again into the eyes of this now dying monk and were speechless. Jaroslav's smile was gone.

I remember photographing this monk in September, shortly after I first arrived in Ukraine. During evening prayer, he had waddled into the sanctuary, oblivious to the chanting and the pairs of eyes following him, and sat next to the singers. I knew there weren't any photographs allowed in the sanctuary, but the intricate design of his robe and the black cusp of his hood captivated me. As he sat in a beam of sunlight, clothed in black and surrounded by the wail of Ukrainians worshipping, I saw him as a pillar, an aging foundation of something I was only beginning to understand.

I asked him after Vespers(evening prayer) if I could photograph him, and he agreed. After I snapped a few shots, he thanked me and then kissed my hand. If I had been in America, I would have awkwardly giggled. But I understood what he was communicating, something deeper than the clumsiness of language. Brett told me that in Ukraine, people only kiss the hands of a Bishop.

As Brett, Sasha, Jaroslav and myself stood with Ananina's caretakers last weekend, five months after I first visited Univ, we stared blankly into pale blue eyes that couldn't stare back. The cancer in his lung, they said, had left him so weak he was unable to stand or talk. He stared blankly at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell with short gasps from an open mouth, and it reminded me of the panting of the hamsters I had as a kid.

Jaroslav told me Ananina hadn't eaten anything all month, just water. We all bowed before we went out, and feeling out of place, I forced myself to touch his bed. I knew I couldn't offer him any comfort than what he already had, I knew he was tougher than me. I knew he had left the monastery in his 20s to fight in the war, and when there was no one left to fight, he married and had another life. When his wife died, he came back to the monastery and donated all of his possessions to the monks.

I knew I could offer him nothing as I touched his blanket, searching for his bony ankle in the sheets to show some shallow sense of compassion. I knew it didn't mean anything, and that's what disturbed me most of all. I knew I couldn't pay him the same respect and return the kiss.

The rumors are true: things are bad

Above: Joseph Sywenkyj for The New York Times in Kyiv, Ukraine.

I planned on the Decisive Moment, the photo story, light or something equally harmless as our assignment for my Beginning Photojournalism course at Ukrainian Catholic University. As with all classes in Ukraine, word-of-mouth is the best advertising, and students don't really show up till the third week. But today, the assignment was a surprise: in five pictures, explain the banking crisis of Ukraine.

I've received two emails thus far from friends asking about this article from the New York Times concerning the economic crisis in Ukraine. For those that don't know, Ukraine had the fastest depreciating currency in the world in 2008 next to Iceland, whose entire banking system collapsed. People want to know: is this just hype, or is Ukraine really this bad?

In short, it's true. It's worse than you think. I told my students today that I saw the perfect picture standing on the street the other day, looking at one of the money exchange signs. A woman in her 50s was staring at the exchange rates for the Ukrainian Hryvnia, US Dollar and the Euro, shook her head, and gave an exasperated sigh, her frozen rosy cheeks puffed out.

That's how everybody feels here. I hate to say it, but what you read is true. Ukraine is really in a crisis, far worse than Americans can imagine.

Although I can't confirm the speculations, several people I have spoken with expect riots within the next 2 months. People are very frustrated by the fall of the currency and feel powerless, and they are getting restless. My roommate has been approached by several coworkers asking to buy American Dollars off of him. They aren't looking to con anyone, they just want their hard-earned salary to be worth something by 2010.

"Oh, Ukraine? THAT'S interesting . . ." : On what not to stay to abroad teachers/students

My students seem to like Americans, but they unanimously singled out a single American attribute they hate.

"When I greet Americans, they always say 'hello, how are you?'," said a 2nd year english student of mine. "And then they just walk away without waiting for an answer. If you didn't want to know, why did you ask?"

Ouch, I thought. I wanted to object with a reason, but he was right. How superficial. It seems I get a lot of superficiality from Americans about world issues these days, in fact, about anything not directly related to themselves. 

My roommate and I have a running joke about Americans we talk to when we come back from traveling and living abroad in Ukraine. We might be at a party, a family get-together or some sort of social function, but inevitably people ask: "What are you doing these days?" 

Depending on who you're talking to, they may be positive and supportive or rather skeptical and cynical of your accomplishments and dreams. Or, if they are in the group I'm singling out, they're really not that interested in other people.

"Well, I'm teaching/studying abroad, in Such and Such country overseas," you might say.

"So, how's that stuff working out for you, y'know, over there?" says the ignoramus. 

"It's great . . . . I really like these people and this country, I've learned a-" 

"Well, that's interesting. You have fun with that," as they gulp the last of their beer and duck out of a potentially boring conversation.

I don't mean to pick on my fellow Americans. In fact, I've never felt prouder to be an American than I do now. However, we have earned a very deserving reputation around the rest of the world as having great influence, but little to no awareness. 

I applaud projects like National Geographic Glimpse and STA travel for their efforts to expose Americans to more cultures and the rest of the world. I don't expect Americans to know where Ukraine is or to even know most countries in Europe. We just don't interact with them enough to make it necessary. 

It's not the lack of knowledge that concerns me, it's the unwillingness. A fool is someone who acts stupidly and doesn't mind. Ignorance doesn't bother me, what bugs me is willing ignorance.

It drives me crazy when people know they could learn more but choose not to because it impinges on their lifestyle. That's a fool. 

So when someone comes back from a potentially enlightening experience in their life, either serving our country abroad as a soldier, from working in a humbling environment with the poor and sick, or from a paradigm-shifting travel experience, don't say "well, we just don't know how lucky we have it," and change the subject. Ask them about how they feel. Take an interest in someone else's life and what they are doing. They could be struggling with the greatest lessons and experiences of their  waking lives. 

Who knows? Both of you might learn something.

What I want for Christmas, and what the D3x means for travel photographers

I'm a traveling photojournalist who's always on the move, and shooting on the road isn't always easy. So when I saw that the release of the Nikon D3x, the next installment of the pro Nikon bodies, was leaked online, I jumped at the thought of trying to shoot with one of these on the road. Would I?

In a nutshell: probably not.

I currently carry a NIkon D300, a 17-35 mm lens, an 80-200 mm lens, a 50 mm(portraits), a flash, a light meter, a rain cover and the grip for the D300. In other words, any time you see me with my camera bag, I have about 30 pounds of photo equipment strapped to me. It's a pain. I am going to spring for a lightweight camera backpack soon, as the side pouch I currently use, while great for lightweight assignments and easy access, is going to give me major back pain in the future. I can't imagine trying to stuff a Nikon D3x in there with everything else and lugging it around.

I say this to illustrate a point about my style of travel and how I photograph: less is more. I need to be comfortable when I travel, and an extra 25-30 pounds doesn't help. Plus, one of the greatest pains of on-the-cheap travel photography is checking in your bag. If I go on a backpacking trip across Europe and don't bring my photo equipment, I can haul my bag right onto the plane and never check a bag, never pay a fee. But once I bring the camera, I have more weight, more liability, and I have to check something.

I'm a young photographer who shoots with a D300 and a D2x. I didn't bring the D2x to Ukraine this fall because of liability, and because it's just too damn big.

For those photographers reading this who know the specs of the D3x, you also know this is entirely impractical for anyone but serious landscape and portrait photographers who want to move into medium format.

For guys like me who need lightweight gear that can bang out images fast, this is mostly useless. Not to mention the $8000 price tag

Above: shots from election day a month ago, hard to believe it went so fast! Notice the menu items in the last shot.

Portraits at the University, I'm going to be in a gallery!

Above, top to bottom: Bozena Hrycyna, an english teacher from Toronto, Canada, with her class at Khutorivka(Holy Spirit) Seminary in Lviv, Ukraine. Robert Marks, a Fullbright Professor from Dominican University in Michigan, poses for a portrait with Greek Catholic nuns at the seminary.

I like assignments. As a photographer, I can either shoot for myself(which often doesn't produce much money, at least not now) or shoot what someone else wants. The first is evermore gratifying, and the second is evermore lucrative, but rarely do they intersect.

I've been shooting for RISU, a university department that functions as a type of religious news service. But really, RISU does just about everything. I've been editing stories for them, designing a yearly brochure in InDesign that goes out to every donor by Christmas, and photographing on occasion.

I'm currently pursuing a story on mental health recovery in Ukraine that started with a wild car trip with a priest two months ago. I'm currently photographing for the Faith and Light program that runs several mental health workshops around the city. In a country where just a few years ago, the horrific collaboration of pimps and corrupt administrators allowed mental health patients to used as sex slaves for money, the university I work for is performing miracles. Someone actually cares what happens to these people and the quality of life they live.

In February, my work will hopefully be displayed in an art gallery in downtown Lviv as a part of the project. We shall see, but I don't have a specific date yet.

Why we don't vote for communists

Before this historic election in America(which I covered in Lviv, photos to come with slideshow), I was out wandering around, taking photos on a sunny afternoon like I always do. Sometimes I forget that I'm living in a post-soviet bloc country that has been devastated by communism. Then I look out my window at the identical, concrete, human-filing cabinet across the road and I realize "hey! There's no creative expression in a totalitarian society, in fact, there's no expression/dissent/freedom at all! Yippee!"

This is why we don't vote for communists. I'm not making a political comment on the American election, please don't misinterpret me. Instead, you should know that this week I have never been prouder to be an American than these past few days. Words cannot describe what I've seen here, how devastated this country is because of secular communism, and how cynical the people are about change, politics and any sort of freedom in their lives. 

As Brett picked up a book on the history of Lviv a student had gifted me, he flipped open to the page from 1992, shortly after the Iron Curtain fell and Ukraine won its independence.

"Hey, look at this," he said. "This is the first store opened in Lviv in 1992."

Let me say that again. The first store was opened in 1992. Before this time, there was nothing to buy. Nothing. You waited in line everyday to collect one loaf of bread, one piece of meat and one piece of cheese to feed your entire family. That was it. People went nuts here when the hot dog vendor was introduced. The first signs of capitalism were people sitting on the sidewalk with an umbrella, a few thermos' full of lemonade and coffee, and some cheap hot dogs served on a slice of bread. It was like Beanie Babies and Tickle-Me Elmo walked into a preschool and handed out Skittles. People went nuts, they had never experienced free enterprise before.

A colleague described how his father was a miner, a well-paid position in the Soviet Union. he made a very good wage, but realized that there was nothing he could use the money for, nothing at all. There was nothing to buy, there were no stores for groceries, clothes, electronics, etc. Everyone had the same thing, everything was provided by the government. He put all his money in Soviet banks, and when the Union dissolved, so did his bank account and he lost everything.

It shows in the city. Looking at the pictures above, you can see a few examples of the dilapidated structures of the city. Lviv is the most western city in Ukraine, in fact many Ukrainians tour here because they literally think it is Europe. Yet, the sidewalks are falling apart, completely broken with bits of concrete strewn about. Everyday, the little old ladies have to navigate stairs like the ones above, stairs that haven't been repaired in 50 years and are practically wheelchair ramps now because they've disintegrated. There are abandoned buildings, like the one above, that were built by the soviets, never developed, and left to become ghosts of a failed regime lurking in the past.

The infrastructure is nonexistent here, evidenced by the lack of proper roads, transportation, healthcare, fire and police safety and numerous other deficiencies. Yet, Ukraine has been free for 16 years. But it will live with the scars of communism for lifetimes to come. 

Turka, foothills of the Carpathian Mountains

Above: Star trail exposures taken on top of Mount Baldy in Turka, Ukraine on the Polish border. To shoot this, you'll need: 1. a reliable tripod, 2. a camera that can expose for at least 30 seconds, 3. a wide angle lens, 4. a cable release cord or remote, 5. a cigar, maybe a beer, warm clothes and free time. 

I exposed these using my D300's 'Multiple Exposure' option, allowing me to take up to 10 exposures at 30 seconds each and then combining them in-camera to make a single 5 minute exposure. Quite efficient. If your camera can also shoot at intervals, it will save you the trouble of having to press the shutter each time, which can shake the camera and ruin the image(I had several failures). If you have a cable release, this will solve all of your problems. I didn't, so I used the 'shutter delay' option, which delays the shutter by a second after the mirror is raised in order to reduce shake. This also let me press the shutter release each time without shaking the camera. This is surprisingly easy to do once you get the hang of it, like fireworks photography. Dress warm.
I swear I'm sitting in someone else's spit, but in the freezing wind on top of this mountain, I don't really care. Puffing my cuban, I force my icy hand through 7 layers of clothing and light a match inside the tupperware container I use to transport cigars. Yura takes his first-ever puff of a cigar, and in the near pitch-blackness of the Ukrainian night, over the howl of inhumanely icy wind, I swear I can hear him smile.

"Dobry," he say, his face glowing orange with each puff. 

Hearing my camera click as the shutter ends another time exposure, I roll back and press the shutter release. I'm trying to nail the star trails on my left, but the men are getting restless in this terrible cold. 

"We go sleep now?" Yura suggests for the fifth time. Yura, a diminutive(nickname) form of Yuri(Ukrainian for "George"), came grappling up the mountain with a machete he must have borrowed from Rambo(he actually made it himself, which made me even more afraid of him), full camouflage, two sleeping bags, pork fat and potatoes in a tiny sack. Brett and I, being Americans, weren't going to put up with any of this 'amateur' B.S. No, no. 

In addition to my 20 pounds of camera gear(body, 2 lenses, flash, video camera, tripod and tripod head), we managed to pack enough clothing for a week, a pot, food for 4 days(we stayed for 1 night in the woods), a frisbee, sleeping bag, hand sanitizer and three cuban cigars. I can hear my scoutmaster saying "be prepared," and "laugh and scratch," his unique term for "goofing around." Laughin' and scratchin' was exactly what we did around the fire when Yura's brother Sasha arrived. 

Sasha brought a bottle of wine and promptly announced he was going to boil its contents. OK, Sasha, I just digested half a pound of pork fat. You do what you want. 

They cook the wine with cinnamon and squeeze an orange into the pot. The spicy, aromatic liquid that came rushing over my tongue a moment later like a pack of wolves redefined my reasons for coming to Ukraine. It was possibly one of the most thrilling things I have ever tasted, best described as a liquid form of Thanksgiving turkey, stuffing, cranberries and jello mixed with real eggnog on a Christmas morning.

Insides burning from the hot wine, I curl up in a wheel rut and flatten out on the ground to hide from the wind. I'm surprisingly warm, and although Sasha reiterated that he'd prefer we come down the mountain and stay another night in their house, we stubbornly stick to our mountain defenses. The tent we have is only for two people, and we learned later that night why they don't usually squeeze 3 people into a two-man tent. I never thought spooning could be considered a survival method. 

Taking full advantage of the crystal clear, moonless night on top of a mountain, I reach over to the camera and click the shutter again. I pray the wind won't shake the camera, and roll into a ball. Sure is cold. 

Yushchenko dissolves parliament, calls for reelection: What to do when the country you're living in falls apart

Above: A Ukrainian man waits to cross the street near my apartment in L'viv, Ukraine on October 6th, 2008. The yellow bus approaching, called a Mashrutka, are a popular means of transportation in a city that doesn't have the infrastructure to deal with the surge in vehicles per capita in the last decade. 

Ukrainian President Viktor Yushchenko dissolved the legislature on Wednesday and has called for new parliamentary elections on December 7th. The Ukrainian stock market has fallen 30 percent  and the Ukrainian Hryvna has fallen 20 percent as the economy continues to falter. The decline of the hryvna has outpaced even the devalued American dollar, the exchange rising from approximately 4.80 UA to 5.80 UA to $1 USD in less than 2 weeks. 

In short, the economy here is doing worse than the US economy, the currency is devalued, the government destabilized and everyone is really, really ticked off. Ukrainian sentiment has generally been to fix things as fast as possible in a country trying to stave off the political influence of the Kremlin. Although this could mean an even poorer Ukraine, political catastrophes in a troubled government and an even unhappier populace, I'm excited that heated politics could make good pictures.  

In short, there's a huge power struggle going on between the president and prime minister, Yulia Tymoshenko. Both were strong allies just a year ago, and both worked together in 2002 to take control of the government and put a pro-western coalition(of their two parties) in power. That coalition fell apart last month, leaving Ukraine out to dry. Now both are trying to win the presidency, and with the election coming in 2010, Yushchenko is running out of time.

I leave for Kyiv(Ukrainian for "Kiev") early tomorrow morning to photograph a banquet for the university(I'm trying to learn "smile please" in Ukrainian and Russian). I have no idea what's going to happen before the vote in December, but things are likely to get heated with more political demonstrations and confrontations happening across the country. 

Yushchenko's party, Nasza Ukraina(Our Ukraine), will probably lose seats in the revote, and Tymoshenko said that Yushchenko is trying to force her from office. My students didn't know this was happening on Thursday, the day after the president's announcement, but I'm certain to get an earful of it Kyiv. 

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Above, top to bottom: Somebody's goats chained up in front of the neighborhood complex, next to the road; a man offloads cars near the avtovoksal(af-toh-volk-sahl) bus terminal near my neighborhood on October 2nd; near the front of my neighborhood; boys play with toy guns on an unusually sunny and warm day; a brother and sister make their way home not too far from the prison adjacent to my neighborhood.

I asked a friend which part of my blog he likes best(see the poll on the upper left) and he said the pictures were the biggest help.

"I have no idea what the Ukraine looks like," he typed. 

In answer to his request and your prayers, I am including a project on my neighborhood in the blog. I am labeling my posts, so if you ever need to look for posts on my "neighborhood," you can just type it in and search. 

Brett had described this place as a "Soviet *expletive*-hole" before I had come, and the term couldn't be more accurate. Bulldozing outlying villages, the communists erected giant concrete boxes that were the equivalent of filing cabinets for people. Most of the apartment are designed the same way or look exactly alike. The building are in terrible condition and many of them, built with slabs of concrete, are falling apart. The electricity goes out often and at random(sometimes in the middle of my wash cycle) and electricians come at their convenience(sometimes never). 

There are piles of rubble and trash scattered about, water trickles from unknown sources down the roads, and the 'sidewalks' are sunken-in concrete pieces covered in mud. There are a number of mangy stray dogs that wander the block and a few soviet fountains(also concrete) that no longer work and are covered in vegetation. They make good playgrounds for the kids. 

All-in-all, it's not exactly the ritz, but it ain't bad. The neighborhood seems very safe and I feel comfortable walking around at night. It's mostly families and old people, so the number of rowdy drinking parties and male hooligans(5 or so drunken guys, the only group I really consider a threat) is pretty low. My neighbors are nice, but people don't like to be photographed. 

A week on 19 cents

I will continue my update on Krakow, but I have a special post. This week, I will continue to survive on exactly 19 cents, US. That's exactly 95 Kopecs, or Ukrainian cents. I haven't any money left and I have to get through the week till my paycheck.

I bought a loaf of bread yesterday,  and walking to work everyday(the bus costs either 10 or 30 cents a ride) has helped. I've been cooking what's left of the pasta in the cupboard and eating toast and tea in the morning. Besides that, I don't have any expenses. 

I'm out of potatoes, and am left with a mutated carrot(similar to the chernobyl pepper), mustard, rice, pasta, olive oil, 1/10 a bottle of wine, 6 lemons, a smidgen of pesto, a dollop of sour cream, and very sorry looking apple that appears to have been leftover from the breakup of the Soviet Union. 

Today, I almost walked to the grocery store and got money out. I thought twice about it, and have decided to stick to my guns. I would pay another exorbitant ATM fee, and my paycheck comes later this week(no one seems to know exactly when, not comforting). Until then, I'm countin' Kopecs. 

Polska, Pierogies, and Piwo, part 1

Ah, Krakowie, moj ulubiony miasto. Of all the places I've traveled in the world(26 countries as of this July), Krakow still takes the cake for my favorite cities. The culture of Paris, the style of Rome, and more fun than Six Flags, Krakow may always be my favorite city. Amanda and I had a blast. 

Above, from top to bottom: the Rynek Glowny(ri-nik gwoov-nee; "main square") in downtown Krakow(pronounced "Crack-koov"), some polish bridesmaids admire the queen of the day(best viewed large), two jugglers entertain hundreds of Walk for Life participants in the planty(a ring of gardens and walkways encircling the downtown area), Amanda and me moments after she got off her train, and a homeless man who demanded money(had only Kopecs, Ukrainian coins) at 5 am. 

A walk through Strisky Park

Chernobyl Peppers

Well, not really, but these are really strange peppers. A common myth is that Chernobyl, which is in the center northern region of Ukraine about 12 hours away from me, affected everything in Ukraine. Not true. In fact, much of Ukraine was untouched, and Belarus received the brunt of the radiation. 

Still, these peppers looked like they have been through a nuclear disaster, the one has another pepper growing inside of it. Weird, but I ate them anyway. Maybe that explains the extra finger I'm growing. 

Anti-Semitism in Ukraine . . . from Seminarians?

"President Bush is disliked by many," said Brett, giving an example of the past tense to his English class of Ukrainian seminarians.
This prompted a student to assume "and Bush, he is Jew?"
Brett, my lifelong friend and roommate, explained that no, Bush isn't disliked because he might be a Jew. And no, he wasn't surprised by the response. Having been a seminarian in America himself, Brett's very attune to the religious scene and general attitudes toward faith. To illustrate the Ukrainian attitude towards Judaism, Brett just explained to me the Vertep(which neither of us have actually seen, fyi), a Ukrainian Chistmas play tying the birth of Christ to Ukraine's attitudes and culture. The only Jew in the story is the best friend of Satan.
I should preface all of this by saying the American understanding of anti-Semitism and where it comes from is entirely different from the Ukrainian experience, much of which is steeped in pre-WWII history(we Americans are, I admit, in the dark here). How much do you know about the Polish-Soviet war of 1919-1920, the Holodomyr Famine in Ukraine, or Old Europe(pre-1940)?
To give some background, Ukrainians don't have a lot of exposure to faraway cultures, ethnicities or varying points of view. Mostly everyone here is of Ukrainian, Russian or Polish descent. Few people travel out of the country, those that do go somewhere in Europe or to the USA. I have seen one African in L'viv and, I kid you not, some people stopped in their tracks and stared, mouths agape, in shock. There have been a few chinese tourists here, and they stick out like Boy George at a Catholic funeral. It's a matter of exposure.
My friend nearly wet his pants last year during a discussion of religion when one student, innocently unaware, asked, "the (n-word)s in your country, they are religious?" This spawned a 10 minute explanation of what that meant, why it's the most innapropriate word in the American vocabulary, and what the proper reference was. If English is your 4th language, you've never been outside Ukraine, and you've never seen someone who wasn't pale in your life, you'd probably make the same mistake.
Back to Judaism. According to the American Holocaust Museum, there were some 200,000 Jews in L'viv(then L'wow or L'vov, the Polish or American names, respectively) in September, 1939. After Operation Barbarossa, the Nazis took control of L'vov and sent many Jews to Belzec concentration camp. Post-Holocaust, there were only 200-300 Jews left. I'm having trouble finding reliable sources in English about the current Jewish population/culture in L'viv, but as I understand it, nearly every synagogue in L'viv was destroyed, some 40 buildings. L'viv had the third largest Jewish population in Poland before the Holocaust.
Today, there are no markers, monuments or signs to speak of that recognize Jewish cemetaries, synagogues or the ghetto. In contrast, Krakow also had a large Jewish population and ghetto, not to mention Plaszow, the concentration camp featured in the movie "Schindler's List." Just about everything is marked well, and tours are regularly given. Judaism is part of the city's identity, and Krakow to L'viv is about the distance from Madison to Chicago. So how come Krakow is so friendly to Judaism and L'viv isn't?
Judaism in L'viv or Ukraine, as I understand, is still a very touchy subject. I just edited a story about a Jewish Rabbi in an eastern Ukrainian city that was publicly assaulted in broad daylight by a gang a few weeks ago. Obviously, this isn't everybody, but I find it really interesting it is such a hot-button issue. Circa WWII, there was a lot of ill-will in Europe towards Jews, it wasn't just in Germany(this is too complex to elaborate on here).
Before, I thought anti-Semitism to be so neanderthalic and trivial that is was laughable. My aunt studied in Tel Aviv and often indulged us with Jewish food. I still love eating at Ella's Deli, a Kosher restaurant, in Madison, WI. So I was a bit taken aback when Brett caught me up with Ukrainian affairs, but I've come to realize it's part lack of exposure, part historical context, part something I don't understand.
I leave you with Brett's story from his class yesterday, a policy I will adopt as my own:
"I was explaining the conflict between 'Secular America' and Religious America' by dividing my class in two teams for a mock debate. Not wanting to generalize, I started naming people 'you represent Catholicism, you're fundamentalist, you're Lutheran, you're Muslim, and you will be a J- . . . But I let it go."

Wuv, true Wuv

Trapped inside for a week by the rain, the sun finally came out on Sunday and I went for a walk with my camera. Again, I saw some 10 brides(no exaggeration, I counted) in about 2 hours in the city center, and took a few frames. The last one is of the part across from my apartment, and this gigantic Orthodox church that looks like a bizarre bee-hive. 

Orange flags vs. White; Ukrainian politics explodes in downtown L'viv

I was walking downtown a week ago and saw this rally for Prime Minister Tymoshenko's party. If you read my previous post, then you already know about the breakup of the coalition and how the once cordial Tymoshenko and President Yushchenko have suddenly become bitter enemies. So have their supporters. I managed to work my way into the center of the crowd, just as the Yushchenko supporters(orange flags) were staging a major upset of the rally of the Prime Minister's party(white flags). Minutes after this video, I was standing next to someone carrying a white flag when a orange flaggie charged him and tore his flag down, tearing it to shreads. The cops formed a human wall at that point and the Yushchenko supporters took over the main square. 

 

So, am I going to get invaded by Russia or what?

You might have noticed Russia stomp all over Georgia about a month ago, refuse to leave and ignore a peace deal brokered by EU president Nicholas Sarkozy. Pretty standard for Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Put-dawg. I enjoyed an article on the recent collapse of the pro-western Ukrainian coalition that called Ukraine a "powder keg" that could ignite a land-grab by Russia. What the hell does that mean?

A recap: In August, Russia invades Georgia to 'protect' two separatist regions, going deep into Georgia and overstaying their welcome. This makes Ukraine nervous. In the 2002 presidential election, two Ukrainian political parties brokered a peace deal to oppose the pro-Kremlin candidate and win the presidency. They were Viktor Yushchenko(currently president) and Yulia Tymoshenko(currently PM). They wanted to join NATO, move closer to the west and strengthen ties with the US. This infuriates Moscow, and mysteriously, someone poisons Yuschchenko. You do the math.

There are roughly 144 million ethnic Russians living in post-soviet bloc countries(like Ukraine, Belarus, etc.). They speak Russian, they look Russian, they breathe Kremlin and they'd be happy to have Russia back. There are about 10 million ethnic Russians in Ukraine, according to figures I've seen. However, everybody east and south of Kyiv, I'd say at least 25 million people, speaks Russian. From what I've heard, seen and read, these people don't like the west.

World War II was the war we fought against Nazi Germany to bring freedom back to the world, right? No no no, it was the Great War of Liberty against Fascism, remember, comrade? Seriously, that's what people call it. Russian propaganda is fierce here. Hence Put-dawgs claim that there were American citizens in Georgia who instigated the conflict with Russia and "were receiving direct orders" from their government to "benefit one of the presidential candidates." Sounds like something out of . . . 1940s propaganda.

This past week, the coalition between the Ukrainian president and the Prime Minister collapsed. After some terse comments by the PM today, it's probably for good. Western, pro-NATO Ukrainians whisper the PM has ties with Moscow. Eastern, pro-Russia Ukrainians think the president has ruined an already bad economy and favor Putin's strong-arm economics. I just edited an article about a bishop getting signatures from 7 million Eastern Ukrainians to oppose joining NATO.

The moral: this coalition collapse could send Ukraine's NATO-wayward government tumbling back to Moscow. If Ukraine does make and get it's NATO bid, it could be the match that lights the powder keg of civil war, and/or an invasion. No one seems nervous here, and I haven't seen anything to make me suspicious. Ukrainians are more interested in their own politics than Moscow's interests. Still, it's a lot more real than I thought.