(written Wednesday, May 3 on a train from Vienna to Salzburg)
If you look on a map, Austria and Ukraine aren’t that far apart from each other. And even now, as I look out the train window, I see what are, on paper, many similarities between Austria and Ukraine that are characteristically different from my life in America: small houses (not made of brick or siding), farming fields stretching around small communities, cross country public transportation, conservation of resources, small cars, small stores.
But the difference: Austria is CLEAN. And I use those capital letters for a reason. The word screams at you all over the place. LOOK HOW CLEAN THIS COUNTRY IS! BE AMAZED! I am amazed. It’s amazing how all those similarities are made so starkly different by that one word—clean.
The Old in Austria looks quaint. There is a kind of orderly, almost purposeful aging of buildings. In Ukraine, Old means crumbles and cracks. Exposed grey concrete behind what one day 30 or 40 years ago was a glorious mosaic on the side of an apartment building. In Austria, buildings in the 100s of years old are simply beautiful. In Ukraine trash is literally strewn across the country. I once took a 10 hour bus from my town to a town directly west of me. For the entire ride, the sides of the road were littered with trash. Ukraine is truly a beautiful country naturally, but it’s unfortunate what humans have done to it. If the ugly buildings, factory smoke and waste weren’t there, it’d be a lot easier to appreciate the rolling wheat fields and sunny summer sky. In my opinion.
During my time in Ukraine, I forgot that living outside of the United States could be pleasant, comfortable, easy. Beautiful in purely aesthetic, selfish and privileged ways. I was starting to associate all the benefits of a rich economy as the sole possession of America, and I forgot that other countries are doing pretty good for themselves as well.
Prior to moving to Ukraine, I imagined myself country hopping for years. In fact, the newness, adventure and constant entertainment that accompanied my 3 month training in Ukraine only served to strengthen those images. The idea of living abroad was full of romantic optimism, which I now realize was heavily tinted by the fact that my only time outside of the United States was spent in equally developed countries, and the constant stimulation of training wasn’t representative of what the rest of my life in Ukraine would be like. By my 1 year anniversary in Ukraine, I can honestly say that those dreams had fled, screaming and wrecking havoc as they left. The reality, the difficulty, the loneliness and the language and cultural barriers, while often conduits for powerful growing moments, are also, quite simply, exhausting. There was a point when I could no longer dream of extending my time outside of the US. I was beat.
But only 3 days in Austria has restored my faith in life abroad. Or, more adequately, I feel a renewal of possibility. Not quite on the previous level, but rekindled, nevertheless. Don’t worry, I’ll never go back to that naive state I was in 2 years ago, when living abroad was a dream and the difficulties still buried under expectation. Ukraine has been, at times, an almost brutal punch to my idealistic naivety, and I’m in the process of reassessing. Trying to separate the reality of life outside the United States from what, I’ll admit, has at times been nothing less than self-pity.
And of course I feel the customary Peace Corps guilt for saying that I am not comfortable with my life in Ukraine. From the beginning they breed in us the mentality that complaining is unacceptable. We did sign up for this willingly, having been warned of the difficulties. My manager has almost religiously told me that he is willing to help me with anything, that he wants to make me happy, but that if I want to complain about the isolation of my site from other Americans (3 hours) he doesn’t want to hear it, because when I joined the Peace Corps I signed up to live not with Americans, but with the nationals. (Not surprisingly, this has been my one greatest struggle.) Unfortunately, there is a fine line between complaining and needing to verbalize the stress and difficulties of life as a Peace Corps volunteer. In trying to suck it up and not complain about my life here, I forgot that life can actually be much easier. I’m a little relieved to be reminded that it wouldn’t always have to be as difficult as the past 20 months have been.
