Friday, October 9, 1998

Vienna and Chernobyl

We land in Vienna, Austria, and then wait several hours to depart for Kyiv. Our first plane has an engine problem, and the second plane has a brake failure, so we finally board a third plane. While I am waiting, I strike up a conversation with an American hired by an engineering firm to help stabilize Chernobyl nuclear power plant Unit #3, site of the world’s worst accident in 1986. He will be inside a special protective suit as they make steel and concrete repair of the ruptured roof hastily installed by the Soviets to control the fatal radioactive cloud that was spewing all over northern Ukraine.

He tells me 6000 Ukrainian men are employed at the site, one nuclear Unit is still operating, but will be switched to natural gas by 2000. He states that these men are basically trapped in their jobs as they have no where to go even though they have not been paid since last March. He says they pile up their plates with food at the cafeteria, and then hide the food in baggies in their coats to take home to their families. He states that even with a thirty mile radius perimeter security fence in place, people are desperate and loot contaminated locations inside the fence. He says matter-of-factly that some “hot” artifacts are being sold to unsuspecting tourists.

Touch Down in Kyiv

We take off on an Austrian airline, the only one serving Kyiv from Western Europe at the time. I munch on a cheese-meat-slice-roll lunch, and try hard to stare through dense cloud cover as we make our approach to Kyiv. Compared to Moscow’s airport, the one in Kyiv is like the Taj Mahal – it has clean tiled restrooms! I get through customs in ten minutes instead of two hours it took me in Moscow.

On the other side wait our official greeters - Olena, Valentina, Marina, and Natalia - some of whom we had met in Delaware in July. We are loaded into a mini-van. We swiftly drive through a rural area, pass the sprawling Kharkivsky Soviet-era apartment tower complex, and cross the impressive suspension bridge over the Dnieper River into the city itself. I see the golden cupolas of the Pechersk monastery on hills overlooking the river. Marina tells us that we will get a chance to visit the famous monastery caves next day. I also cannot help but notice the Brezhnev-era Monument to the Motherland – a gigantic statue of a sword-bearing woman celebrating the 40^th anniversary of the Great Patriotic War, World War II.

We snake through the city. Kyiv is mostly clean and very attractive in its crisp autumn foliage. I am told by Olena that the dominant tree in the city is the chestnut, which in fact, is also the symbol of Kyiv. I vow to bring home a souvenir chestnut. The fall colors, rainy weather, and autumn air cold enough to see my breath take me back to my graduate school years in Wisconsin 1969-1972. I remind myself that Wisconsin and Ukraine have the same latitude and climate. They look and smell very similar, so I feel quite at home already.

We finally arrive at the Hotel Ukraina, a beautifully refurbished turn-of-the 19th century hotel. We enter the lobby with our luggage in tow, but I am surprised that none of the three red-jacketed men inside move to help us. The hotel has the smell of old ambience which I like. Unfortunately, it takes us over an hour to get registered, when it turns out many rooms have to be switched. I wind up getting a room by myself in Room 726.

The Press Conference

We are told to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes! I hurriedly shave for the first time in almost two days in cold water; hot water has already been turned off for the day! I put on a coat and tie, and hurry downstairs. We pile into another van, and drive to the USIA “America House” building for a press conference that has been arranged by the US Cultural attaché, Gregory Orr.

We enter a smallish chair-rowed room, with champagne, juice bottles, and chocolates in one corner, and a microphone table with US and Ukrainian flags before a blue backdrop in front of the room. One TV station is there as are many newspaper and radio reporters. Some of our host Ukraine teachers are also present, having made seven-to-fourteen hour train rides to be there! Of course, officials Marina and Natalia from Ukrainian ACCELS are present. I look around, but I am disappointed to notice that Edward is absent. I am told later that he has been delayed in arriving on his long bus ride from Novograd-Volynsky, west of Kyiv.

The press conference begins with opening remarks by Mr. Orr who lauds the ACCEL program concept and recent successes. He tells us how 8000 Ukrainian teacher applicants have been whittled down to fifteen finalists! My US selection pales in comparison.

Then each of the six Americans is asked to say a few words. When it is my turn, I say something like this: “It is so exciting for me to be here in the grand nation of Ukraine, which is the root of my Grandfather Michael. I have his same first name, and he likely immigrated to the US from what is now extreme northwestern Ukraine before World War I. It is an honor to stand before you as a representative of the teachers of my country America, and to have been selected from over 300 teachers who applied.”

I then go on to tell them a little about my teaching job at Estrella Middle School in Phoenix. I conclude with a reference to Christa McAuliffe: “Our first teacher in space who died on the tragic fight of the Space Shuttle Challenger in 1986 said, ‘I touch the future, I teach! ’ Now I can proudly say, ‘I touch other cultures, I teach! Now, I can act as a bridge across the Atlantic Ocean between two vibrant cultures, cultures that can learn so much from each other. In turn, we can share what we learn while I am here with your students.’ ”

After we all make our opening greetings, the formal meeting breaks up. We mingle and sample the champagne and famous Ukrainian chocolates. It turns out I am an instant celebrity of sorts due to my Ukrainian heritage. A murmur erupted in the room as soon as I stated my surname – all immediately recognized it as Ukrainian. The Kyiv TV reporter interviews me for about 20 minutes, followed by the radio and newspaper reporters. The TV reporter says that my interview will be on the 10: 00 pm news later that night, but I am not able to see it because we were at a late dinner. My translator is Dmitry, who’s English is so smooth, I just have to ask him. He says he spent a year as an exchange student in Michigan, which helped improve his English fluency.

Hotel Ukrainia Banquet

After the news conference, we are whisked back to the hotel for a traditional Ukrainian feast. We enter an elaborate restaurant with a music show stage at the far end. We sit down to a table for fifteen. It is laid out with breads, salads, meats, cheeses, wine bottles, caviar, fish, etc. for as much as we can eat. It turns out they are just the appetizers, and I regret eating so much.

The main course meal that follows lasts over three hours! Our entrees are mainly chicken Kyiv, and the hotel specialty - beef fillet with mushrooms, celery and onions. We have a hard time visiting with loud disco-type music in the background, but a couple of reporters manage to continue questioning us. If this meal had been served in US, I guess it would have cost at least $50 US each!

Street Scene Impression

By 11: 00 pm it is time to go. It turns out that I need to arrange a cab ride for Marina, and while we are outside the hotel I am approached by three prostitutes looking for work. This embarrasses me and Marina. We are also accosted by street beggars. Such conditions exist in US tourist districts too, but it still is an early impression of Ukraine I had not expected. Before we all go to bed around midnight, Dmitry says he wants to take me to a new restaurant-bar named “Arizona” before I return to the US. He wants to see how it compares to a real Arizona establishment. Everyone says it is very expensive (about $15-$30 US), which is about equal to a beginning teacher’s monthly salary!

I finally turn in around midnight, but have a hard time falling asleep. Around 3: 30 am I awake and lie there with all the events that have taken place swirling in my brain. But then around 4: 30 am I do sleep, and the next thing I know Gerry is pounding on my door at 8: 45 am. I failed to set my alarm, and I am already late for our 8: 30 am breakfast!