our milk

This is a picture of our milk carton. The cow looks derranged. Is this why people say not to drink the milk in Ukraine?

how to procrastinate

Recently I have found that I am faffing about putting off until much later on / next week what I could / should be doing now i.e. my studies. So I thought I’d let you know what I get up to. Yes, I need to get a life:

- race to see if I can empty the dishwasher before the kettle boils
- race to see if I can fill the dishwasher before the kettle boils
- make a cup of tea
- make another cup of tea
- make a cup of tea using real tea leaves as this takes longer
- take photos of dumb stuff to write about on my blog
- write my blog
- check everyone else’s blog
- write a raging email to some news site or other
- send annoying video clips (like the Bollywood version of ‘Thriller’) to my friends when they are hard at work (that’s what they say anyway)
- call MDF to tell him about the latest domestic developments e.g. the water has been shut off
- empty the bins
- walk down the six flights of stairs instead of taking the lift to empty the bin
- walk back up the six flights of stairs
- make a nutella sandwich
- search the web for flights to other cities but don’t book anything
- find washing to do and do it (apart from MDF’s shirts which I seem to always forget about – I promise it’s not deliberate, it’s just that I’m sure he does them better than I do)
- sweep the floor with a dustpan and brush (even though our lovely cleaning lady is due)
- look up the latest funny videos on YouTube (like the f*rting baby)
- read the jokes that people send me on email
- forward the jokes that people send me on email
- read every news flash that comes to my email in detail e.g. the latest preservation techniques for fish
- check out the latest fashions in Tokyo on style-arena
- rearrange my handbag cupboard
- find something to take to the dry cleaners (walking down and up the six flights of stairs to do it)
- search the web for a million versions of what do with frozen salmon (the only decent fish here)
- go have morning coffee with a friend
- go have afternoon coffee with a friend
- lay the dinner table at 3pm
- drink a glass of water
- drink another glass of water (every half hour in fact)
- go to the loo several times due to aforementioned glasses of water
- plan sights to see in Kiev but don’t go and see them
- watch fashion tv (ok, that is really pushing it and indicates pure procrastinationitis)

I think that just about sums up today’s activities – and people said I would be lost without a job to do. They were SO WRONG!

bumbling along in zimbabwe

I called my dad in Harare yesterday morning to check that his partner and he were ok and to see how life was out there given the current political situation that has meant oppression of government opposition (the MDC) with violent clashes between them and a brutal police force, together with an economy that has nose-dived with a rate of inflation at 1700% – the highest in the world. You can see more information if you click on the ‘zimonline’ link on this blog.

So I dialled up and got Albert, the household servant. And the conversation went like this:

- hello -

- oh hi Albert, it’s xxxxx, Mr xxxxx’s daughter -

- ah! xxxxx! How are you? -

- I’m very well thanks. How about you? -

- I’m very well too -

- oh good. Is Mr xxxxx there? -

- oh no – he has gone shopping -

- oh okay, well, when will he be back? -

- in about an hour -

- ok, will you tell him that I’ll call him when he gets back in please? -

- oh no Madam! He will be busy when he gets back because he will need to get ready to go to play golf -

- ah ok. Well, please could you tell him that I’ll call him this evening then? -

- yes Madam -

- thanks Albert -

- so how is the other one? -

PAUSE

- uhmm – you mean xxxxx (MDF)? -

- yes, him. Is he working hard? -

- yes he is -

- well, you tell him that Albert says hello -

- yes ok, of course. I am sure he will say hello to you too! -

- heh heh heh -

- ok, I’d better go. Nice to talk to you Albert -

- ok Madam, bye -

- bye Albert.

Unfortunately I went out last night and didn’t back until late so I rang my dad this morning. I got a decent enough line as could be expected and spoke to him straight away (he wasn’t out shopping or golfing). This was the conversation:

- xxxxx speaking -

- hi xxxxx speaking, this is your daughter -

- who? oh! is that xxxxx?

- yeah it is. How are you?

- well I’m fine thanks -

- good. And how are things? -

- well, you know, bumbling along as always -

………..

- so, have you any plans for coming over then? -

- no, no. So what’s your news? How’s Kiev? -

………..

And so the conversation went on. Now I know that details of the political situation in Zimbabwe aren’t going to be mentioned over the phone, but sometimes it’s so hard to get a realistic grip of the situation when there are the terrible reports, photos, videos in the news, not to mention the detailed internet coverage, about the atrocities that are being committed in Zimbabwe (particularly Harare where my dad is based). And then life just ‘bumbles’ along as it always has done in the privileged quarters. A classic quote about a year ago was:

- yes we can get practically everything here, but at the moment we can’t get any bl*ody tonic water. There’s plenty of gin though. -

That was in response to my concerns about the reported food shortages like bread, flour, sugar, cooking oil. I suppose when those are your staples you’ll suffer, but when they’re not, your priorities lie elsewhere.

bodily functions offence

Can someone please explain to me why MDF finds my bodily functions section on this blog offensive, particularly when nose emissions are involved, but he can guff like a chimney when we are stuck in a very small lift together and that is ok? Maybe a man needs to answer this question.

bodily functions kiev style

One thing that I just cannot reconcile with any amount of ‘cultural awareness’ is the amount of gob drops on the pavements in Kiev. Every few feet there are gloops of someone’s hawked up lungs and when it’s freezing? Ergh – the stuff gets hard and icy and god help you if you slip on it. We were told that the reason people spit is that:

- it’s very polluted here so people need to spit lots.
- better out than in.

Well then on that subject, why do you never see people blowing their noses properly? Now, for me, in winter when I’m walking in the freezing cold and then going into a warm shop for example, my nose is streaming. So I blow it – not in a trumpeting way but in a delicate placement-into-a-clean-tissue way. But you can tell the foreigners a mile off because they blow their noses. With tissues / handkerchiefs. What do Kievans do? Here are some tips:

- clasp your nostrils between thumb and forefinger and breath out fast. Preferably depositing your nasal contents in the street. Especially if you are a man.
- dab delicately at your nose with a handkerchief but don’t blow. Especially if you are a woman. Never mind if your nose is streaming and you have probable pneumonia.
- snork it up. Our Croatian-French friend M says this is gross because waste is produced for a reason and it’s better out than in. I agree.

Mind you, this nose blowing issue is not just confined to Kievans – here are some other examples:

- in Japan blowing your nose in public is a major taboo. Puking, on the other hand is not (as my English friend R will admit – she barfed into her hat on the last train out of Tokyo and no one batted an eyelid). Aside from a typical town in England on a weekend / wages night, I have never seen so much honk on the pavements.
- blowing your nose was also taboo with my grandma’s late second husband and he was South African.
- in Germany (Munich) I saw a fair bit of the nose squeezing and blowing action in public.
- school children always snork it up. Ask my mum, my aunt and my grandma who are all teachers with experience in Zimbabwe, Wales, Spain and England.

recycling kiev style

One thing that’s been disturbing me since we arrived here is the lack of recycling facilities. There are two huge bins in the car park downstairs and everything just gets dumped into them. Every so often there’s a little old man or woman that rummage through the waste and pick out bits which I assume are for recycling. I hope they are for recycling.

When I had finished unpacking all the boxes that we brought with us when we moved into the flat, I had them all neatly folded up and ready to put in the boot of the car to drive them to the recycling dump. I asked the rental agency where the nearest facility was as there didn’t seem to be a bin assigned to it in our area. She looked at me blankly and said

- recycling? what do you mean, recycling? –

so I explained and she said

- oh that. Just leave it in the bins and the poor people will deal with it –

I repeated this to my aunt in England and she said

- well, maybe they can live in your boxes –

Oh. So the agent’s reasoning explains the people rooting in the bins. Now we place our bottles, plastic and cardboard into a separate bag that we put alongside the bin outside. I can’t bear the thought of the ‘poor people’ having to rummage through our old teabags and other such nasties in search of something to recycle. I just hope that they are getting the recyclable stuff and that some helpful person isn’t just thinking

- oh what is this cr*p doing out of the bin cluttering the place up –

and throwing the bag in with the rest of the grot.

dong pears

I counted no less than five varieties of pear in the supermarket this evening. We can’t get a decent potato for love nor money but there’s an abundance of pears. Imported no doubt. For some reason these dong-shaped varieties are popular. If I was a man I think I might feel a tad inferior.

sunday in kiev – mother’s day too

Oh god, it’s late afternoon on Sunday and I have not moved very far from my laptop. I have not in fact got dressed. I am still wearing my winter slippers – and MDF is in the flat. Lordy, standards are dropping. I keep meaning to go out and do something but just can’t be bothered. MDF has decided that he is going to have a ‘do nothing Sunday’ and so far we are both living up to it.

I have just had a glass of the divine Moldovan fizz. Looking at the bottle it’s described as being ‘methode champagnoise’ and ’spumante’ – are these the same or are the Moldovans mixing things up a bit? Whatever – I don’t care, it’s yum.

MDF has just made himself an obsene club sandwich with serrano ham and emmental – I can’t blame him as I have not moved my *rse from my laptop to sort out lunch. I am truly living ‘do nothing Sunday’. To accompany my fizz I had some gherkins (freaks MDF out every time), emmental chunks, comte chunks (why does the rind always smell of sex?) and teeny tiny mini salamis (why do they look like shrivelled willies?).

The sun is starting to drop behind the buildings in front of my study window and I really need to get my backside in gear and do some food shopping, otherwise we’ll be eating more sandwiches tonight. Or ordering in pizza.

Meantime, it’s mother’s day and I must ring my mother before she thinks I am a horrific daughter and have forgotten all about her. Of course I haven’t.

fat busting #2

It’s been nearly a week since I first lamented the state of my burgeoning *rse and I think an update is due. For the last six days I have been pummelling my rear with the French ‘flabby thigh’ lotion and even wearing the tights-cum-cycling-shorts monstrosity every night. Apart from one night where the itch was too bad to bear and I ripped them off – don’t think it mattered much though. On examination of my rear this morning I can report an improvement – yes, really. And that’s after the excess alcohol intake this week – which I blame the rugby for. Especially as France won.

Anyway, it’s very exciting because I think I am ready to bear my all to the sun and dazzle my fellow holiday makers next week with my newly smoothed and very slightly perter behind. Even MDF thinks there’s been an improvement but he’s probably saying it so he has an excuse to stare at my derriere for as long as possible to evaluate the ‘disappearing’ lumps. Still, I might go equipped to the water’s edge with a sarong which I’ll shed at the last minute before throwing myself into the waves. Not that I like the waves because there are bound to be sharks in there.

But it goes without saying that exercise is key to a smooth rear, although at the moment I am having huge motivational issues. I used to be able to use the I-work-too-hard-and-don’t-have-time excuse for not exercising but now I think that deep down I am a lazy c*w. This cartoon (by the hilarious Johnny Hart) is on our fridge door and it sums up my feelings entirely.

champagnski

I am so excited. I had my first bottle of sparkling wine (known as champagnski here) since we ran out of our French supplies a few months ago and this fizz was from Moldova! There is loads of sparklie here made in Ukraine but most of it is just too sweet for me and I’ve not ventured properly into finding a dry version. Well, on Friday I had another happy Furchet experience and found a bottle of dry fizz. I am delighted. So much so that I drank it one sitting. Now my Friday nights will be complete. And other nights too I think.

I did a bit of a google on Moldovan wine, and it seems that there are some quite respectable bottles coming out of the country, and its sparklie is one of them. Here is what Laithwaite’s says (they are a respectable wine order co – my stepdad says so):

“The Tsars loved Champagne and looked to Moldova to match France’s finest fizz.
Made in the same way as vintage Champagne, …
…And 2004 proved a great vintage – a harsh winter that ‘cleansed’ the vineyards, followed by a long, warm summer leading to even and ripe fruit.”

My bottle I don’t think was a vintage but it was scrummy. Think I need to get some more soon.