In my previous travels to Latin America, I'll admit that I was self-righteous enough to imagine that where ever I traveled, I would at least know the basics of communication so that I didn't sound like some snobby, monolingual American. My apologies to all of you non-snobby, monolingual Americans--I might as well be in with the thick of you here in Ukraine, because Spanish is not a hot commodity around these parts. We've now lived here for just over two months and I can count to three in Russian, say good morning in Russian, say good day in Ukrainian, see you later in Russian, next stop in Russian, oh and good/okay, yes, no, please and thank you. That's the extent of my language immersion. Wahoo, let me just pat myself on the back, ridiculous is what that is! Needless to say, I often feel lost, incompetent, and embarrassed by not knowing what's going on in the world around me. The feeling is a little less pressing now that I've awaken to the cold hard fact that I'm clueless and not in control.
As for Spanish, I've been lucky, a small handful of our teachers speak Spanish and the manager of our food services is Cuban! Pedro has helped us find two great things--black beans and Spanish mass. That's right, at the same metro stop you can encounter both of those great things. Three weeks ago we tried to find the church, but I forgot our translation and we ended up stumbling it right after mass ended. Last week we sought out the "Reinok" or the produce bazaar where we found black beans and tasty pomegranates. This week we finally made it to mass. Although a little confused by the liturgy, it was great to be in a room of Spanish speakers, to sing songs, and to pass the "paz" of Christ with others.
