HAVEN’T WE AREADY DONE THIS?

Sunday, July 8, 2007

(Disclaimer: While this story is funny, Ron has written a very exaggerated account of our afternoon. Ron counts shopping hours in dog years! — Pippa)

Pippa promised that if we went back to souvenir street (Andriyivskyy Uzviz) that “cross her heart,” she would go fast, not at the wounded-snail-on-a-crutch’s pace she and her mother inflicted on the rest of us previously.

Pippa lied.

Even when Andry, Olya and I sat on a curb with our fists under our chins, shoulder and spirits sagging, wearing our best “waiting for Godot” expression, she sludged on in her mother’s best tradition, touching every decorated egg on Andriyivskyy Uzviz; picking up every painted box and plate (Ty Tirilky); trying on every ancient coin necklace; talking to every painter about their technique, their education and view on life even though one spoke Russian and the other Texas English; unraveling every floral patterned long thing (Rushnky); every embroidered linen something (Vahshivkah); and lifting every wooden mace (Bulava). The only things she did not finger were the Soviet military officer’s caps with the giant brim, Soviet tank corps caps, the medals and battle ribbons. Nor did she pay any attention to the CCCP soccer shirts or the tee shirts with Lenin giving the “finger”. You know, the only really interesting stuff.

Pippa here. Well, the boy and girl on the box reminded me of Andry and Olya.

This 5"X8" painting is of the typical landscape in the rural areas outside of Kiev.

I knew when my mom saw may little painting of the trees she would want one too.

And the Holleyhawks are in bloom everywhere.

Here is one of the shirts Ron likes. See he was shopping too!

(Back to Ron.) But the Ukrainians have a GOD of MEN. So, just when the kids and I were about to throw ourselves on the first military swords we could find, the sky opened up and a great rain fell on us. The kids and I ran in happy abandon to Vassily and his waiting VW van. All three of us kissed him on his mouth. We drove to the booth where Pippa and Yelana, in the pouring rain, were talking to one of the old lady vendors about a particular piece of jewelry. I had to pull Pippa into the van as she was clasping both arms around the old woman’s legs; Vasilly gunned the engine as Pippa’s feet clattered on the cobblestones down Andriyivskyy Uzviz.

However, there was still the “festival” to be dealt with. The children had begged me to skip it; they didn’t need to beg. I had a bad case of Rasputin’s Revenge (ponos) and had no portable package of toilet paper on my person. So Vassily dropped the kids and me off at the apartment and took Pippa on to her festival. Olya and Andry played Simms on their computers and I watched Schalke play Bremen with the commentary in Russian. I was a happy person.

Pippa returned before nightfall and tried to tell us about how wonderful the festival was. We all said, “that’s nice.” The kids were still on Simms. I was watching the women’s USA basketball team clobber Australia. The only interesting thing about the game was the skin-tight uniforms the Aussie ladies wore versus the baggy prison look of the American girls.

Ron and the kids have no idea what they missed! The festival, which celebrated the end of winter, was rich with Ukrainian culture. Most of the attendees were in traditional clothing.




Girls, young women and one horse wore wreaths of flowers on their heads. The tradition is for women of marrying age to toss their flower wreath into a stream. The faster it floats to the other side the sooner they will marry.


I bought Olya one of the flower wreaths. Now she looks like the girl on the Ukrainian milk cartons.



There were traditional foods, sword fighting demonstrations and lessons, pottery and dancing workshops, musicians, artists and their stalls of handmade dolls, embroidered shirts, baskets, wooden bowls…)

These musicians wore huge black fur hats.

The artist who created these dolls looked just like them!

Musicians on break.

A really sweet woman from the Carpathian Mountains handmakes these shirts. Yep, I bought this one.

If my mom lived in Ukraine she would be member of this music group.


The Ukrainian police were closely watching these Harikhrishna dancers. I wondered if it was to make sure their activities were legal or because they thought they were hot.


(Back to Ron.) Olya and Andry helped Pippa cook dinner of chicken stirfry with snow peas, beets, onions and carrots. For dessert––cherries, what else? Thankfully we are here at the peak of cherry season.

Pippa did a math lesson for each child and an English lesson with Andry who seems to be a willing participant.

Andry and I played a game of ice hockey. (This is the game with little hockey players who slide back and forth in little slots in the table, swivel and shoot the puck. I’m quite skilled at this game. In fact when I was a young man I took such a game from New York when I left the agency where I was working to the ad agency in Frankfurt, Germany that gave me my first creative director’s job. I took the game to London when my agency moved me there. Sadly, I left the hockey game in London when I eventually returned to New York.)

It’s in playing this game, that Andry is strongest in his English. There are lots of “Get outta hee!”, “Oh Man!” and “No way”. His language and motor skills are increasing in the game. We have a five hrivna bet on the next game’s outcome.