How did it come to this?

Can you believe the crap this rag comes out with?

Leader, 25 Aug 2010:

Stepping to Odessa: an army-in-exile saddles up for war

In 1940, Charles de Gaulle's "Free French" took up temporary residence in London before entering the fray against their Nazi-held homeland. Seventy years on, the P[ed]zo caravanserai is ready to pack up its own sojourn here and attack a different foreign city. Mr Pedzo's departure may be as speedy as the decision-making process was protracted, with sources close to the commandante hinting he may pitch up at Kyiv's great gates as early as next week. But it's the destination, rather than the timing, of the attack that was always the favoured theme of Pedzologists. Some had pointed to Egypt, with the bountiful supplies of raw materials - namely shisha coals - that heretofore have bled the coffers of Pedzo's partisans. It's a salutary lesson for The Economist that he has instead followed its recommendations, and plumped for a Baltic (sic) invasion. Admittedly, this magazine's track record on proposing military action isn't entirely unblemished (anyone remember Iraq?), and in this case it may again prove that the road to Ukraine isn't wholly devoid of stumbling blocks. It was the unforgiving climate of the Russian steppe that checked the armies of both Napoleon and Adolf Hitler. While Mr Pedzo has proven his ability to withstand such sub-zero temperatures, it's anyone's guess what havoc it will wreak on his Scottish allies.

Tis true, and I’ve now been pitched at Kyiv’s gates for about a fortnight now. I just can’t stay away from this place and had to come back for more.

It was a chaotic, hectic summer with things rumbling along at a frenetic pace. I had no internet access, little time and a fuzzy head that made the decision making process a greater challenge than usual. It all happened so quickly. At summer school, there was constant speculation about where I might end up, and Matt, my director of studies, even posted the odds up on the whiteboard in the teachers’ room in hopes of attracting a few wagers. They started out something like this:

Baku 7-1
Cairo 5-1
Kyiv 8-11 (fav)
Belarus 200-1
Bosnia 125-1
Nothing 18-1

The smart money was always on Kyiv, but I flirted heavily with the idea of Cairo. One of my fellow summer school teachers (and now dear friend) Kerry and I joked about going somewhere together. When she accepted a position in Cairo, the pressure was thrust squarely upon my shoulders to hold up my end of the bargain. You have no idea how tempted I was, honestly and truly. And I hope a visit instead will be of some small consolation. (I fear she’s still upset/angry/annoyed with me )

This is the beauty of teaching abroad: you pretty much have all the choice in the world. What a ridiculously spoilt lifestyle to lead, where you can almost (dare I say, literally?) spin a globe, point to a place, and then go there. I wouldn’t do something that drastic and adventurous, but with so many places to choose from, one can get easily overwhelmed when you are as indecisive as I am. The paradox of choice, innit.

As it was, my heart has always been in Ukraine. The nine months I spent in Lviv some five years ago were amongst the most magical of my life. And though one is always tempting fate by going back to the same place – and yes, I did hear Lviv calling again – I felt that Kyiv would be a sufficiently different enough change. And besides, in the interests of my profession and ‘career’, I’ve got myself a job at an excellent school with very high standards, arguably the pinnacle in the Tefl world, and so at least in that regards it’s something of a step up.

As far as history teaching is concerned…were I well and truly serious about that, I might have considered a year or two in the US to get some experience, though I did have a job in Tbilisi that fell through, as well as a potential opportunity in Abu Dhabi. But I consider it a very healthy sign that neither of those worked out, and I’m back to a place I truly love – I’ve always tended to put the appurtenance of location over job. Once it gets cold, bleak and miserable in a couple of months’ time, I’ll be right back here on these very same pages whingeing and moaning about the greyness of it all.

But what about this for a commitment-phobe like me: I’ve signed a 2-year contract! ‘Massive’ would be a dramatic understatement to say how big a thing that is for me. I haven’t spent longer than 9 months anywhere since 2002, and considering I’ve just signed a 2-year lease on a flat, unless I decide to move out, this will be the first time I’ve lived for more than a year in the same flat/house since I was 15. Seeing as I’ve recently turned a robust 34, that’s 19 years ago. From a philosophical – what else? - point of view, this has to be a very healthy, positive step. And besides, this means I’ll be around for Euro 2012, assuming of course that Ukraine doesn’t have the tournament wrenched away at the last minute. Only one of the four host cities is apparently on schedule to be ready in time, though people here remain overly optimistic. We shall see.

The Warwick v Edinburgh parallel

In 2002, I was faced with an agonising decision. I’d been accepted to both Warwick and Edinburgh for an MSc in International Politics. I knew Warwick had the much better reputation as a programme, but the splendour and delights of Edinburgh were pulling me in that direction. When I got to Edinburgh and told a few other people of this dilemma, including some professors, most people expressed bemusement that I had plumped for Edinburgh. I can’t say I have any regrets.

A similar thing has been happening here in my early days. When I tell people, locals or other teachers, that I used to live in Lviv and was not-so-seriously mulling over the prospect of going back, they usually start gushing about how charming and splendid Lviv is, and how much lovelier it is than Kyiv, and why didn’t I go back there, etc, etc, blah blah…

All I shall say is that I’m glad I opted for Kyiv, but I fully intend on making as many trips back to Lviv as possible. The city has changed a great deal, and I’ve got lots to share from what turned out to be an epic journey back.

How fitting then, that I still have yet to recap the highlights of that June trip to this lovely land. I’ve already regaled/bored my readers with my round-up of Romania, Moldova and my summer school experience on these pages, with all that World Cup malarkey splattered in between. Now that I’m back, I’ll be working on unveiling all of the as-yet-untold tales and other choice tidbits in the upcoming weeks. I still haven’t even got round to posting photos of my travels, though in the grand scheme of things, that’s normal for me. I once left a roll of holiday snaps undeveloped for 3 years before my then girlfriend went and got them developed, only to find that they were holiday photos with a previous girlfriend. I honestly had no idea, though I wasn’t at all believed. My point is simply that when it comes to posting or sharing holiday photos, I’m never in any great rush (that’s a euphemism for ‘I’m a lazy swine’). While I’m on the topic, one of my biggest bugbears these days? People who immediately have to rush over to see the results of any pictures taken on a digital camera. Barely has the picture been captured when the subjects all zip over to see what it looks like. I used to love going on holiday and then taking my sweet time to get the photos back, even posting them off to save a bit of money.

At least now I can use the excuse, a very valid one I think, that only now do I have my very own internet service for the first time in over 4 months. Though it is painstakingly slow: I was having fits the other day trying to watch the US Open on live streaming when it kept freezing. Eventually I just gave up and went to bed.

So there you have it, this is where I am. I still can hardly believe it, and it’s been fun to surprise my old friends here by sending cryptic texts announcing my return.
Along with some older tales and photos from the past months, I hope to create some new, lasting memories of my various escapades and general tomfoolery.

And now, for a bit of ‘Where were you when..?’

I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to news, but I do get somewhat antsy and irritable if I’m unable to follow current events in, at the very least, a cursory manner. Working at a summer school means you’re quite cut off from the world and might miss a semi-big story or two. I’m always worried that I’ll miss the obituary of one of my favourite writers, actors or sportsmen. When they’re a minor figure in the grand scheme of things, it can be months before I find out. In the case of some American sporting figures, Steve McNair and Kirby Puckett spring to mind, it might have been up to a year before I heard the news. For now, I’m terrified that I’ll miss the moment one of my intellectual heroes Eric Hobsbawm kicks the bucket. When Ryszard Kapuscinski passed away nearly three years ago, I received a flood of condolences from friends who knew how much I adored him.

Anyway, in light of the recent 9-year anniversary of September 11 and all of the coverage of ‘where were you when?’ it happened, it got me thinking about the other big events that fall within the same category. I think every generation has at least three big ‘where were you when?’ events, and for someone of my age and background (spending most of my schooling years in American schools), here are the three biggies:

1. The 1986 Challenger explosion
2. Princess Diana’s death
3. September 11

However, more than anything else, it was reading about the 5 year anniversary of Katrina that messed with my head. One of the biggest news stories, certainly in America, from the past 10 or so years, and I just about missed the entire thing. This all fits in with my arrival in Lviv just over 5 years ago. I was en route from Belfast to Lviv with a very cloudy head and an extremely heavy heart. I’d recently returned from a trip to Chicago where Drew and I had had an epic, unforgettable few days and I, uh, ‘met’ a certain someone who was occupying my thoughts (I almost didn’t even go to Lviv because of her). With her on my mind, a two-day layover in Budapest where I spent most of my hours in Turkish baths getting massages, and then my arrival in a new country where I didn’t have internet access or an English-speaking channel (I had only 4 Ukrainian TV channels for the duration of my stay), I completely missed the Katrina story. I remember watching Ukrainian news a few days after the fact and seeing footage of a hurricane hitting New Orleans, but it was only a 10-second clip near the end of the broadcast, and of course, with hurricanes a dime-a-dozen in the August/September months, I thought little of it. Not to belittle the gravity of it all, of course. When I realised, in the ensuing months, just what a catastrophic event it truly was, I kept wondering how it was that I missed it all as it was unfolding. I don’t think I saw any television coverage of the aftermath until at least a year later, and it was only recently that I was made fully aware of the death toll of around 1,800. Talk about feeling ignorant and out-of-the-loop.

(I’ve made two trips to New Orleans in the past few years, and had a chance to drive through the Lower Ninth Ward and see for myself what havoc it wreaked; I have to say that’s it a city I’d like to get back to, I found it mesmerising and utterly compelling.)

I’d like to share where I was on those three aforementioned big dates in history, sticking to the details of where I was and what I was doing, and trying to leave out things like overwrought emotions and other bits of sentimentality.

1. Like a lot of American school children, because of the presence of the New Hampshire school teacher onboard, we were glued to the television sets at school. More than anything, there was a stunned silence and a sense of utter disbelief when the Challenger blew up.

2. I heard the news that Diana was serious injured at about 2am whilst out at various fraternity parties during the start of my final year at Tufts. I have to say that I was already well-gone on various substances by that point, so as new news filtered in, I could barely digest and make sense of it all. To top it all off, at a certain point in the night, I found myself in the company of complete strangers, and in the wee hours found myself at a Bickford’s with only enough money for one fried egg. I somehow got the waitress’s number though I never actually phoned her.

3. Not to make light of 9/11 in any way, but like many people on that fateful day, as we first heard news that a plane had hit the first tower, I thought it was nothing more than an accident gone horribly wrong, that some unfortunate pilot had flown his biplane into the tower and that it might make the news as more of an amusing ‘what an idiot’ piece than anything else. I was working in Boston and used to have a daily morning ritual. Once I got my early work done and checked, I’d ‘reward’ myself by grabbing the sports section of the Boston Globe and heading off to take care of my daily business. I heard the news of the first plane, shrugged it off, and went to do my thing. Never being one to rush my precious morning ritual, I ambled out of the gents’ some minutes later to find the floors in a whirlwind of activity as rumours were making the rounds and people were starting to panic. As the events and enormity of it all began to unfold, there was chaos and confusion and no one knew what to do. Working in the John Hancock building, Boston’s tallest, there was naturally fear about our fate and eventually it was decided to vacate the premises. My girlfriend was in the 2nd-tallest building, the Prudential, and so between us and our families the fear spread like wildfire. This was also a time when many people still lacked mobile phones, so I had no way of getting in touch with her or anyone, and besides, most lines were down anyway. Suffice to say that it was a pretty terrifying day, to say the least.

Coming back to Ukraine, and thinking about how I missed Katrina happening five years ago, I felt compelled to share these tales. In the future, I’ll try and keep things a bit on the lighter side.

Thanks for your patience. I’ll try and do better the next time.