Odessa Blog Post, By Rebecca

Rebecca Marcus

Long days, short nights. I find that common on service trips like these. I suppose it’s the whole “away from home... far, far away from home.” I feel that more so here, especially because of the lack of technology and the ability to make a simple phone call. Funny, isn’t it? America is so highly connected – my iPhone allows me to connect to anyone in a matter of seconds, which is great for my business and social life but not so great for relaxation. It would be nice to pick up the phone and call home though. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m awfully close with my parents (which I really do like), and it’s torture not being able to call Mom and Dad and just tell them that I’m safe and that I love them (Mom, Dad, and Chris, if you are reading this: I’m safe! I love you!)

Today was good. Not what I expected, but enjoyable all the same. After an interesting night in a gorgeous hotel suite, I realized this was not going to be like the hostel we stayed at in New Orleans. This place is incredible – crown moldings that look like artwork (which I could stare at for hours), ceilings that stretch for miles, carpet that rolls down the marble stairs. It’s quite a refreshing change. What I can’t help but wonder, however, is that with this economic pit we’re in, is if this place is the cost equivalent to staying at a Holiday Inn. Pretty scary if that’s the case.

Ukraine itself is pretty… well, I suppose “different” would be a cliché. Needless to say, I’m pretty spoiled living in smoke-free everything in Delaware. Everyone smokes here. And I mean everyone. We walked – nay, sprinted – from terminal to terminal in Kyev (which have outdoor entrances to some) and with my first breath of glorious Ukrainian air, I choked on the heavy smell of cheap cigarettes. Not quite what I was hoping for, but what can you do.

The attire is quite…different as well, especially to an outsider looking in. I asked Dina, one of our “Ukrainian friends” that just so happens to be from Boston, about it, and she said, “Welcome to Russia.” I can’t help but think that this is a step up from the misery of the Cold War. It’s quite obvious to anyone that looks around that the Cold War was just over a decade ago. I wish someone could just tell me what life was like before the USSR fell. I haven’t met anyone yet that has any actual firsthand experience with it, and I’m hoping tomorrow when we meet with home-bound elderly that someone will be able to tell me.

Something else I’m looking forward to asking about it about my own family’s past. Before I left, my dad and I discussed where our family was from and what (little) we know about where we came from. After some preliminary research online, with only my great-aunt’s travel log in tow, I found out that, well, I have no idea where we came from. The city that she lived in is not exactly in existence, according to the know-all website, Google. Upon leaving, I tucked her log in my bag, and decided to ask someone here. I was pleased that my first opportunity was today at Beit Grand, the beautiful campus of all things Jewish in Odessa (where we were able to meet these adorable elderly folk, one of which sang to us in Yiddish and one who accompanied her on an ancient, but beautiful, violin). While we were painting a mural at their courtyard (which we also cleaned up completely), I asked the Director of Beit Grand about the cities mentioned in the log, and she actually recognized them. Needless to say, I was pretty excited to hear it. She said that the cities are in present-day Moldova. Weird. I never thought I’d hear myself say that my nationality is Moldovan, but alas! I’m still waiting to talk with the elderly tomorrow about the cities, so I’m crossing my fingers!

Well, friends just arrived to hang out for the rest of the evening, so I should probably listen to my mother’s advice and not be rude. More later!

Signing off,
Rebecca Marcus