So Much to Do, So Little Time

Recently, I wondered if maybe I wasn’t taking full advantage of the city so I decided to plan some local excursions. Since I had already been bowling and ice fishing (which I shouldn't have done in heels), that left me with three options: the opera, art museum and circus.

I went to the opera to see Rigoletto with a colleague who was in town. Not knowing the story, it went something like this: there is a prince who has many women in his court but falls in love with an outsider. There is a hunchback man who maybe works for the prince and, eventually, this woman, who is dressed as a man, dies. I think. Between each 20-minute act, there was a 15-minute intermission so the set could be changed. This turned out to be a very long three hour performance. At least we did not check our coats since the theatre was not heated.

The cold theatre is a perfect segue to the freezing art museum. I was with Jonathan and a friend. We asked the coat-check lady if it was warm enough throughout or should we keep our jackets. After a cruel stare down, we checked the coats, which was a big mistake. We purchased our tickets for 8 UAH (about $1.60) and were set to begin our self-guided tour. First, we surrendered our tickets to the ticket-collector who also happened to be the woman who sold us the ticket. Here is how that worked: I gave her money, she gave me the tickets and then I gave them right back to her.

In addition to being cold, there was only electricity upon request. So, as we entered each room, we asked the proctor to open the lights which were promptly extinguished upon our exit. When I decided to skip one exhibit by a local artist, I was chastised in incomprehensible Russian by the docent and followed back to complete the full retrospective before I was allowed into the next room. The whole tour took about 20-minutes (we walked slowly) and we were the only visitors.

Yesterday, I made it to the circus despite my long held beliefs against the institution, but when in Rome. The circus, not far from my office, is a permanent tented building with performances every Saturday and Sunday. The greatest show on earth featured the traveling Moscow Circus. The cast of usual suspects like clowns, acrobats, panthers, cheetahs, hula-hoops set ablaze and trapeze artists dressed as Buddhist monks were quite entertaining. I also enjoyed the fresh popcorn and cotton candy, only $1 each, which is the second best deal in town after the $.80 Stella Artois sold on the streets.

After listening to an elephant play the harmonica accompanied by Jon Bon Jovi’s “I want to live forever,” I decided that my mission was complete. Now, I just need to decide what to do next weekend.

No Chicken Kiev in Kiev for this Vegetarian

Because cars are allowed to drive on sidewalks, navigating Kiev on foot was perilous at best but not impossible. One rule of thumb will get you around: beware, pedestrians never have the right of way! Otherwise, my long weekend in the capital city with Jonathan was a real treat that included magnificent views, English speakers and good food, for a change.

We spent half a day at the city’s most well-known site, the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra. The Lavra is a series of intimate streets that make up this Ukrainian Orthodox monastery which feels like a small city in and of itself. It is the preeminent center of Christian orthodoxy in Eastern Europe and was founded in the early 11th century. Unfortunately, nothing was written in English and our guidebook didn’t provide much more. In my broken Russian, I managed to exchange a few words with a monk who apparently mistook us for pilgrims (as opposed to tourists, a big difference which my language skills did not decipher) and helped arrange a special tour reserved for the most devout. Oops.

We spent several hours with a guide from the nunnery who was on to us when she realized we were not baptized. Still, she allowed us this profound opportunity to learn about the religious and spiritual life of nearly half of my Ukrainian neighbors. The main attraction at the monastery are the historic caves, a complex system of underground corridors, working churches and nearly 100 catacombs of saints where the pious arrive from around the world seeking favor and blessings. It is said that their “holy and corrupted” bodies were preserved through miracles; you can view their clothed remains and exposed hands through glass coffins using light from small candles purchased at the entrance.

Of course, we also made several Jewish site visits including to the Hesed Welfare Center which serves more than 14,000 elderly and at-risk clients in the city compared with the several thousand in Dnepropetrovsk. Our Jewish tour ended on a sobering note at Babi Yar, a ravine in the city center where during the course of two days, September 29-30, 1941, the Nazis murdered 33,771 Jews, the single largest massacre during the Holocaust. In the months that followed, more than 100,000 people from Ukraine, mostly Jews, were also murdered at this site. The large menorah monument presented on the 50th anniversary of the massacre is a reminder of the city’s grisly history; and, just across from the memorial children played soccer and went sledding without a care in the world.

Делай добро- Украина or Do Good Ukraine!

I am back to the blog and from my brief hiatus in Israel! I spent time getting to know my colleagues at JDC, visited with my family, got a much needed haircut and pretty much ate everything in sight, although I swore off potatoes and cabbage for the week. I had hoped for warm weather but instead it snowed in Jerusalem and there were 60 mile per hour winds in Tel Aviv… so much for sunny skies. At least I had one beautiful afternoon at the beach when I arrived (above). Three falafels, two pounds of hummus and a ton of tabuleh later, I’m back in Ukraine which is, ironically, warmer than Israel.

I was there to meet with colleagues and other Israelis interested in my Fellowship project to solicit their advice, expertise and present funding opportunities. The project is called Делай добро- Украина (Do Good Ukraine!) and is a web-based program designed to connect nonprofit organizations and individuals with volunteer opportunities. The website will feature a live forum that allows organizations to post opportunities with real-time and immediate responses from individuals. The goals of the project are to: nurture a culture of volunteerism; create a network to manage volunteer needs using existing local systems; increase volunteer activity beginning in two pilot communities; assist organizations to attract volunteers; involve businesses with an interest in social responsibility; and, establish and infrastructure for a wide-scale national program.

This project is the first of its kind in Ukraine, a country that has a short history of volunteerism. For this reason, the program will also offer online resources and in-person training for both organizations and volunteers to make the most of their experience together. Development of the voluntary sector is a critical factor in strengthening local resources in order to assume responsibility for the unmet social and welfare needs in the community.

As a community-based project, we involved both Jewish and non-Jewish partners. Improved partnerships with other, mostly non-Jewish, organizations benefit the Jewish community in many ways. For instance, a Jewish organization that does not have HIV/AIDS or deaf-related services can refer clients to another organization through this coalition and vice versa. We hope to see the capacity and self-sufficiency of Jewish organizations grow through increased volunteerism and peer partnerships. I will look forward to sharing the website, which will be in both Russian and English, as soon as it goes live in the next month.

And, today is Jonathan’s 32nd birthday so please wish him a very happy birthday and buy him a drink (or dinner, we still don’t have a stove in the new apartment) for me if you’re in New York!! Happy birthday, Jonathan!

So, I Drank the Kool-Aid

Life in Ukraine is becoming increasingly natural for me as everyday routines are established and mature. Strange, n’est pas? I live in Ukraine and it feels normal. Allow me to illustrate a few standards that are no longer remarkable for me:

• Toilet paper is BYO
• Postcards are not sold anywhere in Dnepropetrovsk
• A thong leotard is acceptable at the gym & preferred in animal print
• Queuing-up in a mysterious line
• Over-the-knee boots, fishnets & a micro-mini are work appropriate
• Brown water
• Wallpaper with glitter
• Wearing the exact same outfit to work all week
• Excitement around the grand opening of TGI Friday’s
• Greek salads garnished with tongue or dollop of lard

I was brought back to reality yesterday afternoon when I realized I was conducting business in the dark… literally. At first, I didn’t think anything of it because most companies do not turn on the lights until it is absolutely necessary once the sun sets. This is jokingly referred to here as “economy” or the practice of pinching pennies. For example, I share my office with four colleagues who politely ask each other permission before turning on the overhead lights.

But, yesterday was different. I was offsite in several early evening meetings which were conducted in absolute darkness and nobody thought it was strange; it wasn’t even mentioned. As it turned out, there was a blackout. During the blackout in New York, we left work early, drank warm beers for 25 cents and picnicked outside with friends. Here, its business as usual which unsympathetically highlights times past in Ukraine.

For many Ukrainians, life is still hard. I have neighbors who live without running water or electricity. At the same time, neighbors on the other side live lavishly even by American standards with indoor swimming pools and Land Rovers. The juxtaposition of rich and poor underscores the challenges and opportunities facing Ukraine as a developing nation. As shopping malls replace Soviet-era bazaars and sushi meets borscht head-on, history is in the making! I am honored to take part, even if it means drinking the Kool-Aid and queuing up in a leotard (okay, maybe not in the leotard).

There's Nothing Like a Good Shvitz

While the memory/nightmare is still lurid, I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell you about my most recent excursion to the Russian bathhouse. I wish I had taken a picture but I was so traumatized by the experience I missed the chance to immortalize my terror on film.

It started off on the right foot. I had been waiting to spend an afternoon at the legendary (well, at least in Dnepropetrovsk) Tsunami spa. My husband Jonathan was here for the week and I figured this was a good time to bring out the big guns and really show him what living large was all about in Ukraine.

There is an entrance fee to use the facility and “administration” scanned our bracelets each time we ordered a service, some of which cost extra. The carte du jour was endless… honey scrubs, Japanese soaks, milk and champagne baths, Turkish massage, aromatherapy hot tubs, plunge pools and more. We eased into it with an hour long foot massage while swinging from a hammock seat in the dark. I think it was the new age music and nature scenes on the big screen that put Jonathan to sleep so I let him choose the next service; we were off for a sauna!

The choices of saunas were equally diverse, offering both wet (steam) and dry. We opted for the traditional Russian banyas which involves steam, heat, cold and an “invigorating beating” with a venik or broom made of birch branches and leaves where the heat is gathered. The sauna reaches 60% humidity and 180 degrees Fahrenheit. I like to refer to this portion of the afternoon as hell. For roughly 6 minutes and $7, a short, hairless (and sometimes naked) Russian man with a pointy felt hat did the following to me:

• prepared a herbal foot soak for me, why I don't know
• escorted me into the sauna and laid me face down on the top bench
• Flogged me with the birch broom (the “invigorating beating”)
• pressed and held the heated broom to all areas of my body

I stopped him before he had a chance to get to my arms because I couldn't take another minute. I had reached my maximum pain and sweat thresh hold. I could barely stand and he basically had to carry me out. He threw me in the shower and washed off the leaves. My head was spinning and I was overjoyed to be done but was instead guided to a small room with a snow making machine. It was -7 degrees Celsius, snowing and I was barefoot in a bathing suit. The little man rubbed snow all over my body but I was happy as a clam to be out of that sauna. Next, he eased me into a freezing cold plunge pool and that’s where things took a turn for the worse. I could not breathe and I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating for at least three seconds. Jonathan spent the next 15 minutes trying to keep me from hyperventilating.

The banyas are a timeless Russian tradition; there is evidence of their existence on the vast territories occupied by the Slavic people before the creation of the Russian states. The word banyas derives from the Latin balneum which means to “chase out pain.” Health benefits including improved blood circulation, eliminating toxins from the body and an increase in oxygen levels, metabolism, red blood cells and haemoglobin count have been subject to centuries of debate including by Aristotle and Hypocrites. Traditionally the banyas were a means for all Russians, from Tzars to peasants, to cleanse themselves and remains popular today for family fun and relaxation.

Personally, I didn’t feel quite right again until the next day but plenty of water and a glass of wine helped. Participating in this unique Russian tradition was unforgettable and I recommend it to anyone who doesn’t mind being sweaty, light-headed or those who have more courage than this pampered, Bliss Spa (Elizabeth Arden in a pinch) going New Yorker.

Holiday Bargains: World Peace Just $12

These days, $12 doesn't buy you much in New York City. You might go to the movies alone, take a friend to Starbucks for a latte or have six cupcakes at Magnolia's. In Ukraine, though, $12 will buy you a roundtrip ticket to Hadiach, a spiritual journey to the grave of the Alter Rebbe, possibly a miracle, a bottomless cup of hot tea and all the fish stew and beet salad your heart desires. The only thing that's not included is toilet paper, but that's par for the course here.

For $12, I thought hey... why not? We left after sunrise on an unusually sunny albeit freezing day, a mere -18 degrees Celsius. My only complaint was the hole in the baseboard of the van that left us all paralyzed by the cold. Two pairs of pantyhose, three pairs of socks and fur-lined boots still left me unable to feel my toes at press time.

I had a lot of time to think since the trip was 13 hours and 47 minutes from beginning to end. Last night, I had never even heard of the Alter Rebbe and suddenly I found myself in a van full of women from Chabad humming niguns. Luckily, I was seated next to a lovely young woman, a shaliach (Chabad emissary) from Israel who showed me the ropes.

The Alter Rebbe is Shneur Zalman of Liadi born September 4, 1745. He was an Orthodox rabbi, the founder and first rebbe of Chabad, a branch of Hasidic Judaism. The Alter Rebbe was descended from a family of mystics and philosophers. He is well known as the youngest disciple of Rabbi Dovber of Mezeritch, the "Great Maggid," who was in turn the successor of Rabbi Yisroel ben Eliezer, known as the Baal Shem Tov. Early in life he distinguished himself as a Talmud scholar and at age twelve was sent home by teachers who said he no longer needed their aid.

The Alter Rebbe went on to become the leader of Hassidism in 1788. He worked to place Hasidism and Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) on a rational basis defining his approach in his greatest work Tanya, "mind ruling over the heart." He chose the name Chabad for his philosophy, a Hebrew acronym for CHochma (wisdom), Bina (understanding) and Da'at (knowledge). He is perhaps though most famous for his work Shulchan Aruch HaRav, the "Code of Jewish Law by the Rabbi," used today by Hasidim as their basis for daily practice.

When the Alter Rebbe died in 1812, he was succeeded by his son, followed by his grandson, and so on; there were seven Rebbes of Lubavitch total, the final, and perhaps most well-known, the Alter Rebbe's great-great-great-great grandson, Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneersohn. By then, Chabad headquarters was moved to Crown Heights in Brooklyn where Rabbi Schneersohn was recognized for his efforts to expand Chabad around the world. Since his death in 1994, there has been speculation that either he was the messiah, will return as the messiah or did not actually die but is in hiding.

The Alter Rebbe, though, did die exactly 196 years ago today making my trek today part of a larger Hasidic pilgrimage. Hundreds of visitors, including myself, offered their blessings and asked the Rebbe for a miracle. I had heard about this before: single women asking to find a match or infertile couples asking for children. Everyone on the bus had a story about a miracle they had witnessed or heard; be careful what you wish for, they warned!

The prayers are written on pieces of white, unlined paper. My new friend helped me begin by adding the necessary Hebrew blessings praising God at the top of the page which, apparently, puts the Rebbe in the right "mood" to make things happen. It is followed by one's personal, spiritual and material hopes and dreams. Next, you enter the room with the grave, light a candle and pray. At the right moment, you literally shred your prayers and offer them to the Rebbe by scattering the pieces atop his tomb. Then, you can warm up with tea and fish stew while you wait for everyone else to finish.

I'm not exactly sure what happened to me today but I definitely returned feeling energized and uplifted. For good measure, I added prayers for world peace and an end to poverty, hunger, disease and war so we'll see what happens.

Keep your fingers crossed.

When There is No One Else in the World

This is nothing short of a very sad story. I hope when you read it, you will understand why it is important for the Joint to be here in Ukraine right now and why it matters to me.

Nearly two years ago a Jewish woman in a nearby town went to her local Hesed and asked for help. She wanted the eldest of her four children accepted to their day center for children-at-risk. She couldn't manage it alone any longer. She could not hold down a job and only had a small monthly income from the state. Each of the four fathers of her children abandoned them. They were alone, living in a dilapidated apartment without electricity,plumbing or running water.

The mother is also an alcoholic. When the Hesed provided her with a family food package she sold it for a drink. She was unable to sufficiently care for her family; unsupervised, her daughter fell from the window of their second story apartment and suffered serious injury. From there, the situation spiralled out of control before anyone had time to realize what was happening.

Soon after the mother’s first call for help, there was a second. This time it was from a neighbor. After days and nights of non-stop crying, a neighbor entered the apartment and found the children, one just a baby, starving, filthy and alone. He called the police and the children were taken to a distribution center to be split up and taken to state orphanages. When the mother finally returned she made what would be a life-saving call for help to the Hesed and Joint. She begged, “There is no one else in this world that I can ask for help.”

In just one day, the Jewish community organized, taking custody of the children, bringing them together under one roof to the Jewish orphanage run by Chabad. They were given immediate medical attention that revealed serious health problems including developmental delays, malnutrition, disease and infection. The smallest, a one-year old, had not left his crib or been held as a baby. He could not sit up or eat solid foods and constantly rocked back and forth with his eyes closed.

For the next six months the Jewish community embraced the children who received services from the Joint at the JCC and Hesed. One day, unannounced, the mother appeared and demanded that her children be returned. She had not seen or spoken to her children since they were taken. She had remarried a man with a steady job cleaning coal and moved into a better apartment. She told them she was sober and had been for some time. The community had no choice but to return her children. Everyone wondered if this was the “right” decision and what would happen next. That was two months ago.

Last week, I drove nearly three hours to meet this family’s caseworker and made a home visit to asses the current situation. The youngest child, now two, just began walking with the help of a physical therapist. The eldest attends kindergarten and the middle two attend a special Jewish day center at our CHAI Family Service for children-at-risk.

The entire family receives counseling from the Hesed. Each continues to make small improvements despite overwhelming psychological and physical problems they will face for the rest of their lives. The mother is still sober. Hesed is in daily contact with the family by phone and makes weekly in-person visits to the home, closely monitoring the situation. Hesed’s intervention and constant support have provided a second chance for them.

There is no way to know if the decisions made were the “right” ones. There are Jewish professionals here who make life and death decisions everyday. I do not envy the positions forced upon them by such woeful and shocking situations. While this family’s circumstance is unimaginable, they are blessed to be Jewish. Not that long ago, Jews were killed because of their faith, today they are being saved because of it.

It is said, “kol Yisroel avarim zeh v’zeh” or “all of Israel is responsible for one another.” The Joint is truly the 911 of the Jewish world.

Sometimes, there really is no one else in the world to ask for help.