In mourning

O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

So, my worst day in Kyiv so far: waking up to the news that Robin Williams committed suicide.

As many of you know, my Dad killed himself in 1996. In the two years after that, weeks of one-on-one therapy for myself and group therapy with other people who'd lost someone to suicide, I learned a lot of things: that suicide is rarely spontaneous - it's been thought about and planned for often, even if the date keeps changing - and that the overwhelming majority of people who commit it suffer from real, physical pain brought on by a chronic illness: everything from chronic pain from a car wreck years ago to addiction to migraines to chronic indigestion. I just want to throw that out there, for those of you who are struggling with the "why" and wondering why someone with so many friends and resources didn't get "help" - I'm sure he tried.

Depression is cancer. It's just as real. It's not just a feeling. It's not just a phase. It's a tumor in your soul. It needs just as much time and intensive treatment to address. And you may not be able to cure it - you may have to get treated for it for the rest of your life. And even then, you still might not win the battle.

My heart hurts so much right now. I feel like won't ever stop crying.

Stephen Fry, don't you DARE.

My first week in Kyiv / Kiev, Ukraine

When I started compiling this blog, it was Sunday morning, and I listened to lovely church bells outside as I began writing... now it's 11 p.m. on a Sunday night, my hosts have gone to bed, even the cat, and I'm tipsy from Ukrainian beer.

Before I continue, a reminder: this is a personal blog, full of personal reflections and opinions. It's not a piece of journalism. My observations will not necessarily be someone else's. How I interpret what I see won't be how someone standing right next to me might see it. I make no claims here to being impartial. I hope I come from a place of honesty and sincerity in my observations. This isn't about being "right" or "wrong" - it's opinion. It's my perspective. Only mine.

So... the big news is... I survived my first week of work in Kyiv! More than that: I survived the first time I have had a daily five-day-a-week 9-5 job outside of my home since 2007 (okay, technically, Kabul was a 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. six-day-a-week job). I wasn't sure I could adjust after not doing this for so long - but I think I'm okay! One week down, 7 more weeks to go...

One thing I had totally forgotten: the vital importance of having food ready to offer visitors to my office. Peanuts and cookies are now at the ready (the former played a key role in getting the big boss into my office to give me feedback on a report). I've telecommuted for way too long. Why doesn't the Open University MSc have the importance of food on your desk as an aid worker as part of the curriculum?!

I also really miss being barefoot for the majority of the work day. Again: I've telecommuted for way too long. I am barefoot, under my desk, but then I have to put my shoes on whenever I go out of the office. I'm also elevating my feet on a box of office supplies under my desk - my boney ankles returned completely today, and I want to keep it that way.

Thank you, everyone, for reading and responding to my dispatches from Kyiv - you've helped make this first week very easy for me, emotionally. I cried twice a week my first eight weeks in Kabul, feeling so lonely. Between your messages and staying with my friend instead of at a hotel or in an apartment by myself, I've been just dandy. Plus, you know, being able to walk outside - that helps! Please keep commenting - it means so much.

My security briefing for work was two minutes. TWO. It was 90 minutes in Kabul. The Kyiv security briefing was basically what you say to someone that's never been to a big city before: don't flash your money, don't use ATMs except inside banks, don't walk alone at night, etc. It was like he was reading from any Lonely Planet book from the section called "Safety." I'm not complaining. And I don't have to call in to security every night and say, "Hi, I'm alive, I wasn't kidnapped on my way home. Thanks." Don't tell my mother that, because she'd probably prefer I do that.

It may not seem like it from my posts, but I'm taking this job VERY seriously. I have 8 weeks to help. Now 7. I'm not here for just the pay, and I'm not here primarily as a tourist - I'm here because I care and because I've trained for this all my life. Don't blow it, Jayne. Don't blow it. If that means working Sundays, as I did today, so be it. Ukraine, and international development agency I am supporting, I'm here for YOU.

There are times when I feel like I am "playing" international development worker. Like this is just some kind of game or theatre. Similar to when my niece makes us all sit around a table at my sister's house in Henderson, Kentucky so she can play waitress. At some point, someone's going to walk into my office or look across at me in an important meeting and say, "YOU ARE A FRAUD! QUIT WITH THE PLAY ACTING ALREADY! GET OUT!"

FYI, I would never do that to my niece.

Most of my job is writing and researching so far - just like in Kabul. But there are a LOT more word "mine fields." There are things I'm not allowed to say, like "crisis." That word has a connotation that is accurate, but makes large world powers get angry, because of its legal ramifications. I had no idea it had legal ramifications. So I say things like "difficult and urgent situations." That kind of phrasing usually doesn't make politicians take off shoes and beat them on tables. This article came across my desk this week as I was working and I laughed and laughed and laughed - oh, the word games I have to play! And that are played with me!

I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have a co-worker that was in Afghanistan for a year and a half, until just two months ago, and is from Barcelona. We have bonded like nobody's business. She's my touchstone, she's my sound wall… thank you, Aid Work Jesus/Mohammed/Buddha/Athena, for this woman. She came in my office the other day holding a draft of my report in her hand and said, sounding like Charo, "No, no, you cannot do this. This is crazy." Not as in, You cannot write this. But, instead, They cannot possibly expect you to write this. Of course, given my luck, she'll turn on me in two weeks and become my professional enemy. For no particular reason - sometimes, it just happens. Competition when there's no need to be competitive. Anyway, she's giving me an update on life there now for aid workers. And I have to say - I had it WAY better in 2007 than now. I can't believe I'm saying that. But now, it's MUCH more restricted regarding movement. MUCH more. Oy veh - so glad I'm not there now, though I miss my Afghan colleagues and think of them oh-so-often.

My host for where I'm living, who is American and I've known for about a decade, lives downtown, a few metro stops away from Maydan (the big square where all the protests happen), but somehow, her street is oh-so-quiet. If I have trouble sleeping at night - and I did my first week - it's not because of noise - it's because of my ongoing jet lag struggles. This really is a fantastic apartment - two bedrooms, but small, yet it's laid out in such a way, with two small balconies, that the three humans living here can stay out of each other's way for hours. And when the TV is blasting, it's just white noise to me: I don't understand the language, so it's just background noise, like a distant car engine. Doesn't bother me at all.

But, of course, the cat here RULES US ALL.

I've been looking for apartments to rent for September, closer to work, and they are all SO fancy. Now, my host negotiates for me at markets and restaurants and with drivers - must I give that up?! Maybe I'll stay here the whole time. She's offered. We'll see.

Socially - or, at least, non-work-related-activities, in my first week:

Thursday, most of the new staff here at my workplace went out to dinner at La Veranda, within walking distance of our office. Work was NEVER discussed. Not once. It was... well, just about as wonderful as something can be. Everyone I'm working with that's from outside Ukraine, even the big boss, with ONE exception, is here short term, for just 2-4 months. It's a really wonderful way to work - we're SO FOCUSED. Get 'er done! But it also means there's a big emphasis on getting along, on being nice to each other, at least so far. I dig it. I did this so much.

Friday night, I met up with my host and her friends at a Brazilian meat palace near where she lives (had to cut my time at the after-work BBQ short - no one told me there was going to be a BBQ!). It was very good, and it felt so awesome to be SOCIAL… but since someone asked: sorry Ukraine, Kentucky has you SO beat when it comes to BBQ… Still, it was a VERY good meal, with a particularly impressive veggie bar. I must, must visit again.

Saturday, we traveled via the metro, which is the deepest in the world. Strangely, I was okay on the way down the deep, deep, deep, long escalator, though incredibly nervous as I wend down down down down... but on the way up, with my back to the long drop, I was fighting a panic attack. I was trying not to cry or hyperventilate. I couldn't look up, I certainly couldn't look back, I felt like I could fall backwards any moment and tumble all the way down the 47 million stories to the bottom, so I looked down at the stairs and rambled. Oh, how I rambled. Thankfully, my host was patient and understanding and I made it out without dying.

Yes, I'm not worried about the Russians invading - I'm worried about the escalators. And all the people texting whilst driving.

We walked to Maydan, the International Square, where I watched volunteers - young, old, middle aged - clean up trash, tires, bricks, you name it. Here's an even better article about it. I know diehard Ukrainian nationalists, people that make plans on how to get to the front and fight the Russians, and even these passionate nationalists say the people in the square now are NOT Maydan revolutionaries - they're drunks. I felt the same way about the Oregon Occupy movement - it devolved there, and in many cities, into messy, shameful nonsense I wanted nothing to do with. The international press has been LAZY in reporting about these last folks in the square. The true Maydan protesters have moved on: they are doing amazing things to support soldiers wounded on the front, for instance - they are not living in tents in the square anymore.

It was a fascinating site, nonetheless. Other than some burning tires, things were oh-so-quiet, and oh-so-winding down. At one point, it started raining, hard. It put all of the fires out. It drove a lot of folks out of the square. Even nature says: hey, it's time to move on - demonstrating is easy, it's time to get busy making things happen to realize the dreams of your revolution. Welcome to the hard part.

I also saw Zoliti Vorota (look it up). Interesting history, and fun to see all the brides walking around trying to get the perfect photo.

My host said all the drink stands everywhere around us in the heart of the city sold Kvass, a fermented drink made from black or regular rye bread that looked like a dark beer, but that's classified as a non-alcoholic (the alcohol content is typically less than 1.2%.), and that she thinks it vile, and people either love it or hate it. So I bought some, took a sip, and... I liked it. I had been jonesing for a Coke bad - something I haven't had in more than a year and, before that break down, hadn't drank in more than two years. I was just about to weaken and get one when I drank the Kvass. I am all about the Kvass now. I teased her mercilessly afterwords: I'm more Ukrainian than you are, neener, neener, neener.

We ran some errands, hooked up with a friend of hers, and whilst they discussed various things in Russian and Ukrainian, I ate baked trout with oranges and mushrooms baked right in the trout, and finally began to read my Lonely Planet guide to the country. I apologize for not taking a photo of my gorgeous meal. It was AWESOME. When the waitress brought it, my host said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, here, they keep the fish head on." And I said, "I am from freakin' Kentucky, you think I haven't seen this before?"

Sunday, we went grocery shopping, something that is not possible in Germany (everything except restaurants are closed in Germany on Sunday). Funny: one of the veggie sellers thought I was German. That's fine!

Until Saturday, I had not taken one photo since arriving Sunday. Not one. Of course, it's not like I could share any with you immediately anyway, since I left my camera chord at home... luckily, my host has something that can read the memory card of my camera. I have now taken photos - but I haven't downloaded them yet, so I can post them online. I will my next weekend, I promise.

So, that's my first week in Ukraine. WHEW!

Here's the outside-of-work activities of one of my co-workers: in his SPARE time, he creates documentaries about people and music in which he is interested, primarily regarding Ukraine, and shares his archival footage of Ukrainian folk and jazz performers. I share two very short videos here so that you can get an idea of what he does. I know so many aid workers that do amazing things in their spare time, usually having to do with the arts. These short videos are about Renata Bogdanska / Рената Богданська, an amazing Ukrainian woman that lived during the war and went on to become the first lady of Poland.
The Ukrainian Dimension (21:22)
The Polish Dimension (17:14)

In the course of my first week of work, I've been sad to learn how deep the corruption problems are in Ukraine. I hate corruption. I hate it. I hate greed. It's what's ruining Afghanistan more than ANYTHING - more than the Taliban or similar groups. Transparency International ranks Ukraine at 144 out of 177 countries, on par with Nigeria and the Central African Republic, and 16 rungs lower than Russia. That makes me cray cray.

Some of you are worried about me being here. You worry about a certain country being stupid and wanting to reclaim parts of the country - and maybe all of it - as its own. If you are one of those people, go read this entire article. Or, if you don't have time, then go to the page, and use your find function on your browser and look for "Putin has a theory of American power," and read just the last nine paragraphs of the article. I always try to understand the mentality of the "other" side, and this was REALLY helpful.

Still too much for you to read? Then read this is an article from CNN. It tries to put what could happen re: Russia and Ukraine into very simple terms. Policy wonks will scoff at it, but if you just want to kinda sorta get a grasp of it all, it's a really good read.

One of the things that international agencies are going to have to address here in Ukraine eventually - and I hope it's sooner rather than later - is reconciliation. Say that word now here and local people will just laugh at you, or bite your head off. "Too soon." But eventually, it's what's got to happen, or there's just continued violence and thousands, even millions, of deaths. Reconciliation is an ongoing process. It's the toughest of processes. It's harder than anything else except for getting rid of corruption, in my opinion. I found this article as I was researching for work, and it absolutely blew my mind. I've read it in full twice. It does not offer a road map, or suggested steps, or anything like that - rather, it articulates why reconciliation is so dang hard, and what those in charge of and engaged in reconciliation processes MUST understand or their work is for naught. I think it's brilliant. I think it applies to situations in the USA.

I don't know if, this second week or coming weeks, I will blog quite so much. I suspect that, if you are overwhelmed by my blogs so far, you should fear not - the newness of my situation will wear off soon, and I'll settle down soon and not write so much.

Photos soon, I promise!

Still no word on how Max the Cat is handling my absence...

Trying to Help Delta Airlines Do the Right Thing

Update: August 18, 2014.

From Delta:

Dear Ms. Cravens,

RE: Case Number 13176765

Thank you for your additional comments concerning our recent exchange of

email.  We try to be responsive when any problem is brought to our 

attention, and we regret you are disappointed with our reply.

To clarify we are not forcing passengers to keep a ticket or force you 

to fly on a ticket if you have a nonrefundable ticket which requires 

that you would have to pay the administrative service charge to make 

changes to your flight.that requires paying the change fee plus the 

difference in fare.

In order to effectively assist you with multi leg flight, please 

contact our International Reservations department and speak with one of 

our specially trained representatives. At this time, we are unable to 

address these types of requests via email.

Our Reservations department is available 24 hours a day at 800-241-4141 

End of original post

So, I called Delta. And went through automated call hell for 10 minutes. And then got a live person at reservations, who said:

"What's a case number? We don't deal with case numbers. We only deal with reservations numbers."

Breathe, Jayne. Breathe. Don't scream. DON'T SCREAM. 

I'm not going to lie: I was uncompromising, I was firm, I was absolute. I have told this story to Delta representatives FOUR TIMES, via phone, via email. Always the same response: it's our policy, you have to fly on Oct. 3, and again on Oct. 6. Nothing can be done. That's the way it is.

I kept asking for a reason beyond policy. I fully expected to hear: it's because, if your butt isn't in the seat, it will alter the space-time continuum. 

So, in the end... I'm paying $300 to not fly on a flight I've paid for on Oct. 3, and three flights I've paid for on Oct. 6. And then I fly home later in October, just like normal. 

Insane, I know. Delta makes $300 more for NO REASON. But I'm so desperate not to be made to fly more than 24 hours in 48 hours, I'll pay this bribe, this extortion, and then pay even more money to take a train on Oct. 3 from Amsterdam to stay with my inlaws. 

I still say: shame on you, Delta. Shame on you. But at least I'm not going to die from Deep Vein Thrombosis on Oct. 6.

Original post:

I'm having an issue with Delta airlines, detailed here. That previous blog also quotes the two responses I've gotten from Delta so far.

The problem in summary:

Months ago, my husband and I booked Delta flights for a vacation to Germany, flying from Portland, Oregon through Amsterdam, on Oct. 6, and flying home on Oct. 20.

Weeks ago, I was offered a two-month post with a very large international humanitarian agency in Kyiv, Ukraine to support its critical humanitarian relief efforts - and I am here now. My flights here to Ukraine, more than 20 hours, were via Delta and its partner carriers. I am booked to fly back to Portland Oregon, through Amsterdam, on Oct. 3.

The logical thing is for me to stop in Amsterdam on Oct. 3, as booked, but then not fly back to the USA, and just over two days later, get back on a plane and fly back to Europe - but to still get to use my already-booked and paid for flight on Oct. 20.

I'm trying again to explain to Delta what decent customer service looks like. Below is my latest email to them, sent just minutes ago to Kitty Whynn of Delta's Online Customer Support Desk:

Not only is flying more than 24 hours in less than 3 days completely unnecessary, not only is this inconvenient to do to a person, it's cruel and, potentially, deadly: long amounts of time sitting can lead to deep vein thrombosis, which can further lead to a pulmonary embolism, a potentially life-threatening complication caused by the detachment of a clot that travels to the lungs. Long flights can lead to this condition and cause death, as noted here: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/7906154/DVT-death-highlights-threat-to-travellers.html

Surely Delta cares about its customers, and

• would never want to endanger their lives
• realizes that forcing someone to fly more than 24 hours, completely unnecessarily, does not benefit the company and does not benefit the customer
• understands that policies need to sometimes have exceptions for the health and safety of its customers: if the Captain turns the seatbelt sign on in a flight, but someone on the flight starts having health problems while that sign is on, people are going to violate that policy and help that person by standing up, despite the policy that everyone should remain seated because the seatbelt sign on. No one is going to start yelling, "Stop helping that person, our policy is that you have to stay seated now!"
• understands that an exception to this policy of forcing people to fly on any ticket booked, in my particular and very exceptional case, is good for the company, good for the customer, and will not cost it any money at all whatsoever for Delta.

I do not want any refunds. All I want is to not be forced to fly more than 24 hours completely unnecessarily in just over two days.

Please respond to this email promptly and let me know ONE of the following; any one of the following answers is what is appropriate in this situation:

• that Delta has realized there's no logical, sensible reason to force me to fly unnecessarily for more than 24 hours, that sometimes policies do have exceptions, and that Delta will let me stay in Amsterdam on Oct. 3 and make my own arrangements, at my own expense, to get to my destination in Germany on Oct. 3 from Amsterdam, and then will allow me fly on my already booked and paid for ticket on Oct. 20 back to the USA, and that this arrangement will in no way affect the tickets to and from Germany booked by my husband. 

OR

• that Delta is required by law to have me on the flights from Portland to Amsterdam on Oct. 6 and from Europe to Portland on Oct. 20 (please note the law by name and where I can find reference online), but because you are worried about my health, that you have upgraded me and my husband to first class for the flights on Oct. 6 and Oct. 20, because the health of your passengers is of vital importance to you, and you are mortified that I am being forced to fly more than 24 hours in just three days, completely unnecessarily, and are doing it only because you are legally required to do so. 

OR

• that forcing me to fly from Amsterdam to Portland on Oct. 3, then to fly from Portland back to Amsterdam on Oct. 6, benefits Delta, and please explicitly detail those benefits to your company in forcing me to fly more than 24 hours unnecessarily. I want a full, detailed explanation of why this will be good for Delta to have me on those flights - not just a "it's our policy" reply. I want to be able to tell the world exactly how forcing me to fly unnecessarily for more than 24 hours in less than 3 days is good for Delta, and I'm sure you will want to help me do that, if that is, indeed the case.

I am so looking forward to hearing from you.

It's not just semantics

You will note that I don't write The Ukraine here in my blog, though I've slipped up a few times in conversations. Why not?

We've all grown up calling the country The Ukraine. But the Associated Press dropped the article 'the' back in 1991, and you know how much I love the AP Style book.

Ukrainians believe that saying The Ukraine denies their sovereignty, their nationhood - that it makes them a thing, a territory owned by someone else - the Russians. They will point out that we don't say the Germany, the France, the Canada, the Mexico, so they believe it should also not be the Ukraine.

Although I know that, once my sister reads this, we're going to immediately start saying the Germany, the France, the Canada, the Mexico… we already say the Google and the Twitter and the Facebook...

And, yes, it's THE United States of America and THE Netherlands and THE Philippines - but these are recognized nations and the The was never a put down by rulers from another country. Those are also all plural. And it's THE Islamic Republic of Iran, to distinguish it from all the other Islamic Republics. It's THE United Kingdom because, indeed, there are other kingdoms.

You may still say the Ukrainian nation, just as we all say the State of Kentucky. But I kinda would love calling it The Kentucky…

It may seem silly… but it's a very big deal for Ukrainians (you MAY say the Ukrainians, BTW). But they know that Russians don’t really, in their gut, accept that there's an independent, sovereign Ukraine. And in Russia, they are still using The Ukraine, as a way to assert that belief.

So, there's your cultural lesson for the week. On the anniversary of the death of THE King, Elvis. Enjoy.

First 3 days in Kiev / Kyiv, Ukraine

Kiev looks like any other big Eastern European city in Poland, Hungary, Bulgaria, etc. Lots of ugly Soviet architecture, lots of big apartment blocks, lots of winding, confusing streets. But it's different in that, in many parts of the city, there are trees EVERYWHERE. SO MANY TREES. That means that many of the smaller apartment buildings look out or into a tree covered bit of ground, and it keeps certain blocks cool even in this heat.

On the way in from the airport, we passed huge, "exclusive" resorts (they used the word, in English, on signs), on land lushly covered in trees. The closer we got into the city, the more construction I saw. I hope this is a solid boom, and not a bubble.

My hosts met me outside their apartment building - originally built by German prisoners of war during WWII and, therefore, it's incredibly well-built. It looks as run down as an apartment building of the same era you might see in Spain or even Egypt - the inside has broken tiles on the stairs, exposed, very questionable electrical systems in the halls and very high ceilings, but once you open the door to their apartment on the top floor (4th), you walk into another world. They bought the apartment and completely redid it, tearing out and rebuilding all of the floors, walls and ceiling. It's a sweet place, two bedroom, very modern, and with two small terraces. And they are surrounded by huge, old trees.

I have never been so glad to walk into air conditioning in my life! After two hours, I cancelled dinner I was supposed to have with the 2nd in command at my work place - I hated doing it, because it would have been wonderful to get her one on one - I may never get that again. But I wasn't just jet lagged - I was sleep deprived. Badly. I would have not remembered anything she said, and may have embarrassed myself at what I might say. Attention people that want my secrets - just don't let me sleep one night, and I will tell you everything you want to know.

I pushed hard to stay up as late as I could - and was in bed by 9:30. And still woke at 3 a.m. and couldn't sleep again until 5. Then I woke up at 7 because I needed to go to the bathroom - and my body was crying for more sleep, but I didn't dare lay ace down for even 5 minutes.

That morning, I started realizing what I had forgotten to pack:
-- the wire to download photos from my camera to my computer
-- an essential piece on my universal electrical plug (without it, it makes it no longer universal; luckily, Ann had something I could use)
-- my makeup back, which was back at Prague security

Also, my gastrointestinal system had decided to rebel against me two days before I left the USA, so I was dealing with that the whole trip and my first day in Ukraine. It's hard when your stomach is telling you, "Do not eat. I don't want it" and your blood sugar levels are telling you, "eat or I'll make you faint soon, somewhere very publicly, and give you a migraine." I ate some grapes and bread that I found in Ann's kitchen for breakfast. She woke up just in time to shuffle me downstairs into a car she'd booked to drive me to work. She said the walk was "just 40 minutes or so." But based on the drive, I think it's an hour.

On my way to work, I saw a woman motorcyclist getting off her bike, and I took it as a "welcome to your first real day in Ukraine" sign.

My workplace compound is very small and quaint. The front gate security guy was expecting me - I got in no problem. I was a little bit early (work day starts at 9 a.m.). He directed me to the second floor (which here is called the 1st floor, as opposed to the ground floor - such is the case all over Europe). My office already had my name on it, so I went in and put my stuff down, and the deputy big boss I was supposed to have dinner with the night before showed up and my work day began! Lots of meetings, tour of the two buildings, names I shall never remember… I share an office with a Ukrainian woman who is the communications person for all of the main agency. She's VERY traditional - I've got to try to get her to go in some new directions. Will not be easy.

The deputy big boss called me, and others arriving that day/week to work just two or three months, "Surge Birds." The "surge" is the very ambitious humanitarian effort that's about to begin in the country, as well as a transformation of the office on several levels, to get it ready for the great deal of work and attention it's about to experience.

My office mate and another new arrival, who'd just been in Afghanistan, went to lunch at an Uzbek restaurant, which was either amazingly delicious or I had forgotten what food tastes like. I ate heartily - then wondered if I'd pay for it later… but it was the first real meal I'd had in about 24 hours. And it was so needed.

Most of my first day is a blur. I was taken around and introduced to everyone by the deputy big boss - and I don't think I remembered anyone's name later. I also got to meet the big boss, which was very energizing. It was all so different from my experience in Afghanistan, where only my office mate seemed to know I was coming, and my boss there never welcomed me.

At some point, I realized that, once again, my ankles had swollen. They did this when I went to Kentucky in June. I don't know if it's the long flights or the heat - or both. I drank SO Much water both times, and tried to move and stand between flights both times, and done little "exreecizes" on the plane both times, several times during all the flights - none of it worked either time. I know my weight has something to do with it…

After work, Ann met me at the front gate. She'd offered to get a car for us to go to the store and then home, but I said no, I wanted to see if maybe I'd misjudged and it really was just a 40 minute walk. No, I hadn't misjudged - it's an hour, and then some. By the time we got to the grocery, I was dying from heat, exhaustion and jet lag. By the time we got home, I was almost in tears. The heat was horrific. I could feel a migraine coming on. I slowly walked the four stories up, and started taking all the meds I could get my hands on. Then took a very cold shower. Ann has a private water heater, meaning that she won't be affected by the recent Kyiv City State Administration announcement that hot water in Kyiv will be switched off to save gas for winter. But given the weather now, that's just FINE.

Ann had made gazpacho, which was PERFECT on such a hot day, and crock pot lasagna, which I have to have the recipe for. I was afraid, because of the borderline heat exhaustion, that I wouldn't be able to eat, but I could - and again, my body rejoiced at the calories. My body calmed down enough to dare some cold white wine. We watched a John Oliver episode, and halfway through, I hit a wall. Hard. I called it a night - once again, in bed by 9:30, determined to sleep for a full 8 hours at last. And I did. It was 5:30 when I got up. I would have loved to have slept another hour, but knew I'd just sleep right on through until it was time to get dressed and go to work, and that I wouldn't have any time to jump on Facebook and twitter, or read email. And I was feeling very lonely and needing to reconnect.

More impressions of Kyiv / Kiev: there are lots of folks walking, which is surprising, given the heat and height of women's shoes (YIKES). But it's something I really like to see. Most everyone drives very new, nice cars. The bus system looks excellent, but I hear there's no air conditioning. Still, I'd like to give it, and the underground, a try. All the signs are in Cyrillic - that makes knowing or remembering what anything is or is called (a street, a business, a product in a grocery store) a BIG challenge.

I'm hoping to get out of the city at some point and see some countryside - everyone says it's a COMPLETELY different world there.

Tuesday and Wednesday both, I was awake at 4 a.m. At least I was much more coherent at work both days than I had been on that Monday.

And work both days was wonderful - because I WORKED. I haven't worked like that in years. Full day, non stop. Reading, writing, thinking, writing, researching, writing, talking to people, writing. All the work Tuesday paid off big time Wednesday, in our first meeting altogether with the Big Boss - I was able to follow the conversation entirely - I couldn't have without that Tuesday full of reading and writing. I sounded way more up-to-speed than I am - and was promptly granted the honor of drafting a very important document I wondered if I really had any business drafting. But, well, I did - I sailed through doing it, in fact, the rest of the day, and handed it off to the two experts - REAL experts, with international experience that would make your jaw drop. I'm talking humanitarian rock stars!

You have to understand… I want this to go well. Extremely well. I want to be essential in this role. In Afghanistan, there were colleagues that relied on me, and I loved them for it - and there were colleagues that resented me and my expertise, and they made my life hell. I've never resented anyone for their expertise, even if I don't like them personally - if you are an ass, but you have an expertise that I need, I'm going to appreciate that expertise, and I'll let you know I do.

I want to really make a difference here, in my own small way, for the people that will come after me, and the Ukrainians who will continue to be in the office long after I'm gone. I want to make this agency thrilled that they brought me in.

Someone said to me about her experience working with a foreign government, "They hired me to be an expert and treated me like a secretary." I know so many aid workers and development staff and consultants that have had this experience. I don't want it. So far, I don't think I'm going to have it.

In addition to the great day of WORKING on Wednesday, I was invited by some of the assistants here, all Ukrainian nationals, to join them as they stood barefoot on a small piece of grass on our compound - we'd all just finished lunch. And we stood there, in a circle, grooving on the feel of the grass, and talking about pedicures. It's my favorite single moment in Ukraine so far.

How I got to Ukraine

Yes, I'm in Ukraine!

But how did I get here?

Saturday, in the wee hours, Stefan drove me and my three pieces of luggage (one bag to check, two bags to carry on - that's it) to PDX, something he rarely gets to do anymore (my flights to anywhere are usually on work days). Our goodbye was super short - PDX has reduced the drop off drive to just TWO lanes, and 5 a.m. is always a madhouse at departures even when all lanes are available. Had we known, we would have cheated and gone to arrivals. As it was, it was a very quick goodbye that didn't at all reflect that we were saying goodbye for TWO MONTHS.

In the security line, I got chosen for some kinda special rapid screening - I didn't have to take off my shoes, to unpack liquids or my computer... I asked, loudly, "Really, I don't have to unpack my computer?!" The woman looked kind of angry and said, "Just enjoy it!". I couldn't. I was too flummoxed. Checked a bag for the first time in more than 2 years. Hope I see it in Kiev tomorrow...

Near my departure gate, I found Rose's Restaurant and Bakery, across from Starbuck's. The line at Starbuck's was outrageous. I just needed some breakfast before the plane - I was eschewing coffee for the next few days in my effort to fight jet lag. And Rose's had BISCUITS AND GRAVY. I avoid pork, but can't say no to b & g. It wasn't really that great, but the psychological effect of having my favorite breakfast was amazing.

Once I boarded the plane, I slept about 2 hours - a decent sleep, in fact, because the seats next to me were empty. Once I couldn't sleep anymore, I listened to Thrilling Stories of the Railway, by Victor Whitechurch, narrated by Benedict Cumberbatch - it's just under 2 hours total. They are detective stories, and BC reads all the dialogue in different character voices - and he's SOOOOO damn good I forgot at times it was just one guy reading. I enjoyed them so much, I might listen to them again.

I got to JFK C terminal and it was like a freakin' developing country. I have not seen that amount of confusion, chaos, crowding and cultural diversity at an airport since the old terminal in Dubai, the one for the flights to Afghanistan, Iraq and China. I could not believe how horrible it was. There were just two bathrooms in all of C terminal, and the woman working in the one I was using had given up - she was just sitting on the counter, watching people line up for the stalls, and when one would clog up, she'd put an "out of order" sign. After working my way through the sea of anxious, angry people waiting for flights in tiny, crapped waiting areas, I finally found a seat over by some pilot's lounge and sat there for two hours trying to use the Boingo Internet system - which is CRAP - frequent dropped signals, SLOW Internet, and I had to use different browsers to get different sites to work.

I had gotten a notice at the checkin machine at PDX that I would have to get my seat for the Prague flight at JFK. About 90 minutes before my flight, I waded again through the sea of people to the gate where my flight would depart. And my experience was basically this:

1st Delta gate agent: "You don't have a seat assignment for this flight because there are none. You just get on when it's time to board."

Me: "Really? On an INTERNATIONAL Delta flight?"

Her: (smug) Yes.

2nd Delta gate agent that showed up 20 minutes later. "Of course there are seat assignments. I have no idea why you don't have one. Here is your seat assignment."

I tweeted madly about the experience, but Delta ignored me, just as they had done regarding this reservation stupidity.

I ended up with a good seat, in most ways: in the aisle of a two seat exit row. That means I had PLENTY of leg room. But the downsides: I couldn't put the seat back. I never put the seat back all the way, or even half way - I'm not that cruel to fellow passengers. But just a little would have helped with sleep on that oh-so-long flight. And I wasn't at the window, so I couldn't lean on anything - and that makes sleep really difficult, if not impossible.

I watched "Saving Mr. Banks", and ended up weeping through the last half so much I think I scared the guy next to me. I would love to have watched more movies, but I knew the most important thing was sleep. I had a couple of glasses of red wine, lots and lots of water, and then did my best to sleep. I slept off and on, quite fitfully, for 4 hours. It wasn't at all a restful sleep. When someone bumped my arm and I raised my eye thingy up, all the lights were on and breakfast was being served. And it was HORRIBLE. First really horrific meal I've had on a plane in years. Just SO bad - there were these sugar-coated croutons and a little bread thing with some kind of horrific cheese product baked into it. There was no coffee - the plane didn't have hot water for some reason. But, as I mentioned, I was abstaining from coffee. I just keep slamming down water as much as possible.

I arrived in Prague on a gorgeous Sunday. I so love this city, even the airport. It took my breath away from the plane window, remembering a long weekend with Stefan here ages ago. At Prague Airport, I saw staff on Segways & line skating through the terminal. The airport was clean, full of services and plenty of room for seating. Unlike JFK. It also was heavy on the luxury product ads and stores. I had forgotten how obsessed Eastern Europeans are with luxury brand names.

I hadn't had to go through security again at JFK, but I did at Prague. I set the alarm off, something I NEVER do - the security guard never did find out what it was that did so. Then we boarded the plane. I was so glad the horrible men in the row across from me weren't behind me - one kept putting his feet up on the seat in front of him, jostling the woman in that seat, and she'd turn around and let him have it, and he'd offer up some lame excuse as to why it was okay - all of this was in Czech or Russian or Ukrainian, I'm not sure which, but it was intense. And then the woman in front of our row asked us to turn off the air, because it was bothering her. As a row, we all refused - it was hot, and the air was blowing directly on us, not her. I found out later that this is very typical for Ukrainians - they don't like any air blowing on them. They will sit in sauna-like conditions rather than turn on a fan or air conditioner, both of which they think lead to widespread illness. Ugh.

Okay, I've just put two stereotypes about Eastern Europeans in this blog. Let the hate mail begin.

As I deplaned, after more than 20 hours on planes and in airports, all I could think was: I have to do all of this again on Oct. 3, in reverse, back to the USA, then turn around and fly BACK to Europe 48 hours later, all because Delta Airlines is being RIDICULOUS. I hope I've at least cost Delta some customers. And as I mentioned here, if I die because of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) as a result of the unnecessary flying Delta is forcing me to do, I hope Stefan becomes a multi-millionaire suing them.

And so, it was late afternoon local time when I arrived in Kyiv (or Kiev), Ukraine. It was SO HOT. The only breeze was me going through security. I was at least happy over security being easy, and my checked bag showing up. I had trouble finding my driver, and almost made a huge mistake and walked out of the airport to look for him - you can't get back in if you do that, and we might never have found each other. But he found me, because he saw the company logo on a paper I was holding in my hand. Hurrah! He was very nice. And I made it to my friend Ann's just fine.

And… I'll give you my impressions of Kiev in my next blog!

A message for Delta airlines

I will blog about my first days in Ukraine soon, I promise. But first, a message to Delta:

If I die because of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) because you are forcing me to fly more than 30 hours in three days, rather than allowing me to stay in Europe on Oct. 3, I assure you that my husband will sue you big time. I don't want to die, I really don't - but if you kill me with these two unnecessary transcontinental flights, you will pay BIG BUCKS to my survivors.