It’s been raining for over a week in Kyiv. I hear it actually didn’t rain on Saturday, but we went to Korosten for a birthday party and it rained there. Two things I have learned in the past week: my favorite pair of ankle boots have been repaired one too many times and are no longer water-proof (found out the hard way in, guess what?, the rain); and the sunroof in the car leaks. Found that out the hard way, too, when the roof basically piddled on my head.
We went just for the day to Korosten on Saturday, and as we pulled onto the highway after a few hours of eating and (for Igor only) drinking, a red light on the instrument panel lit up. It’s one of those “universal” symbols that makes absolutely no sense, a circle with lines around the edges, kind of looks like a sun. A sun? Maybe my car uses solar energy and after 6 sunless day it’s power is all drained out? That was my best guess. So we pulled over and dug out the BMW manual from the glove compartment. Presumably this car was originally purchased in Germany, and as such the manual is only in German. We found the page with the picture of the instrument panel, each indicator light numbered, with a numbered list to the side with a description of each item. Sometimes words are close enough that I can guess what they mean, but no luck this time. My tongue knotted up trying to pronounce “Bremsbelag-Verschleissanzeige (rot)”. We both started laughing hysterically, and decided to see how far we could get until the car either died or exploded. The light blinked sporadically throughout the drive to Kyiv, which I figured either meant the problem wasn’t so serious yet as to warrant a full-time indication, or else the light is attached to the shoddy electrical system and ought to be on full-time but the connection is bad.
We did make it home, safe and sound. A little search on the internet came up with the words “brake” and “wear-indicator” (or “cobblestone”, go figure). So, the car is parked until I have time to take it to the garage. Having just paid a small chunk of change to have the motor repaired (yes, we have windshield wipers again!), it’s looking like monthly repairs are becoming the norm. It might be about time to send our dear Mashonka to pasture. She’s been good to us!
Our friend Michael returns to Ukraine today for his turn with a Fulbright. The last time he was here with his wife, who was on her own Fulbright grant at that time. He’ll stay with us for a bit while he looks for an apartment, then wife and baby will join him once he’s settled in. Some other friends should be returning to Ukraine next month after more than a year’s absence- how cool that much of the old gang will be here again!
Igor’s parents gave me a beautiful pair of gold earrings for my birthday, what are commonly called “gypsy” earrings here. They belonged to Igor’s paternal great-grandmother, who left them to her sister when she died. One winter many many year’s ago, that sister (Igor’s great-aunt) lost one of the earrings in the snow by her house. She thought it was gone forever, but couldn’t bring herself to throw away the one remaining earring. Lo and behold, after the snow melted in the spring, she just happened to look down one day and there was the missing earring, shining up at her out of the mud! Igor’s father told me they bring good luck, and he always comments when I wear them. I love the look on his face when he sees me with them, the memories these earrings bring back to him – he was mostly raised by his grandmother, and loved her very, very dearly. His eyes light up, and a big smile brightens his face, and he starts to tell me stories about his grandmother. And he always ends his reminiscences by telling me the earrings bring good luck and I should wear them all the time.
I don’t know if it’s coincidence or not, but some very good things are happening. Igor was hired to teach history at a kind of community college. Although it’s not his dream job, I know he’s a wonderful and natural teacher, and he’s enjoying being in a classroom again. I like being married to a professor. 🙂 There’s other good stuff, but I’ll write about it later.
Anka in Kyiv 