When the novel coronavirus appeared on our radar in late February, all danger seemed far away and I was mostly curious.  By March 12^th, the Ukrainian central government quite suddenly put strict quarantine measures in place when there were about five confirmed cases in the country.  In the late afternoon, we found out that the kids wouldn’t be attending school the next day and all extracurricular activities were canceled.  I was quite impressed with the government response because knowing the limitations of the medical system here prevention is the best option.  People were mostly understanding and diligent. 

The tiny grocery stores on residential streets allowed only one or two customers at a time, depending on the size of the place.  Most people stayed home.  All religious services were canceled and even my 85 year old, church-attending grandmother understood. 

Weeks went by and Easter was canceled.  I baked paska bread, we decorated (or “wrote”) Ukrainian Easter eggs as a family, and ordered some expensive small-batch smoked ham, but the cultural, community traditions of the spring equinox/Christ’s resurrection, which make this time so special, was non-existent.  That’s when I first started to feel a little down about the situation. 

Distance learning was miserable.  The expectations were unclear, the technology was unreliable, kids were whiny, and I thought I might lose my mind.  It was a huge relief when in the middle of May school stuff started to really wind down and we were done before the end of the month.  But as the weeks of summer went on we found out that all of the camps our kids were signed up for were canceled. 

That’s when the devastation hit me.  Summer camps – the overnight ones, away from parents – are a big part of childhood in Ukraine.  I went to scout camps for two weeks in the summer and still enjoy reliving some of those moments.  I’m smiling right now just thinking about it.  The experience builds character, independence, confidence, and friendship bonds.  To me, it was a highlight of the year. This would have been the first summer that our kids have enough of the Ukrainian language to enjoy such an experience.  The girls would be attending an ecology camp with a few classmates where they would be introduced to plant identification, medicinal plants, caring for nature, healthy lifestyle, etc.  They’d live in cabins and enjoy a lot of crafts, hiking, swimming, games, as well as home-made meals four times a day.  Lucas would be attending a two-week scout camp with his troop.  He had gone to weekly meetings, attended some events, and this would be the highlight.  It’s at camp that you learn most of the Plast traditions, feel a part of this community, and gain experience in fire building, wood carving, gate building, tent sleeping, food prepping, being on a night watch, and so much more.  Plast camps here include both boy troops and girl troops of each area and although they sleep in different camps, a lot of their activities are done together.  At the end of the summer, they’d attend “vacation with God”, the day camp in my hometown that they enjoyed last year. 

We held out hope as the summer continued and borders closed that at least some of the camps would take place.  All of them were based on spending time outdoors and we were willing to pay for our kids to be tested. But everything was canceled.  

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To make matters worse, most borders were closed.  The trip to Morocco I planned for spring break and postponed for fall wasn’t going to pan out after all.  The road trip to Germany that we wanted to take after an invitation from our newly made German acquaintances was on the back burner indefinitely. 

The uncertainty is depressing. The constant anxiety “what if..?” and “should we…?” is exhausting.

Everyone has felt the grief and loss — of life, livelihood, opportunities, connection.

I wrote the above update at the beginning of September. Now, three months later, I realize that I’ve been moving through the stages of grief. March and April — I was in denial, then came anger and bargaining. In September I was in between anger and depression. I think I’m finally entering acceptance.

It is what it is. I can’t control everything. I can’t always guess the future and make the most perfect decision. I’m doing my best and that’s enough. I’m immensely grateful.

Today, on August 18^th, we mark two years of living in Ukraine. 

Our original, tentative goal was to spend two years here, and today we can mark that goal as completed. 

It’s been crazy.  Memories and time don’t follow an expected linear scale. I remember clearly the details of August 17^th, 2018, the day we left – the frantic packing, weighing and reweighing the giant duffle bags, awkwardly on a bathroom scale, the goodbye hugs in the driveway, the stress at the airport, the sting of hot tears near the security line, sleeping on the airport floor, the nasty water in Houston, the endless travel day, so many security lines, shoving all of our stuff into a van upon arrival in Ukraine, two, or was it three, hour drive to our temporary housing… oh god, I am so glad I didn’t know ahead of time how exhausting it would all be.  That day lasted a month in my mind.  And the days that followed were full of uncertainty and lasted a week-long each.  But then something resembling a routine set in and time picked up speed significantly.

I knew, of course, that this would be a challenging adventure.  Everyone I have heard of moving abroad had challenges, even when all of them had some system they relied on.  A company, the system of international schools, a church system, the military, the government…  Each of these systems has a whole network of people that work around the clock to help you.  They select, negotiate, and set up housing, doctors, schools, and anything else you may need. Navigating a completely foreign system that is tightly interwoven with a foreign culture and language, is an exhausting process.  It’s often frustrating; sometimes embarrassing. 

We didn’t have a system or even a job. Some may call it irresponsible. The relatives I was in touch with in Ukraine were always willing to help, but there was often a cultural barrier between them and me so it was hard to explain what I needed.    

We got through the first few months thanks to the energy that one has at the beginning of a project, and thanks to the expectation that “the first six months are going to really suck.” It helps to have a low bar. 

Now, let’s pretend for a minute that it’s the beginning of March 2019, before Covid hit the fan. I would have the following update:

Well, this last winter was unexpectedly mild – bad for skiing but surprisingly pleasant for my sanity. 

I can’t believe that in five months it will be two years since we’ve been here! Time is flying! It took longer than I expected, but the kids are all turning a corner. 

In October, out of the blue, Mila started speaking to me in Ukrainian.  It was incredible. She still makes plenty of grammar mistakes and inserts an English word every so often, but her pronunciation is perfect and her speaking is relatively effortless.  By January, I noticed a significant improvement in the older kids too.  Homework is still a challenge but not quite impossible anymore. They generally look forward to going to school and there have been improvements in their grades. 

We’ve settled into a more comfortable routine and are not quite so lost when new questions do arise.  The weeks are governed by the kids’ activities.  All of them are taking music lessons at the public music school. Anya plays violin, Mila – cello, and Lucas – the accordion.  They have one on one lessons with a teacher twice a week (three times for Mila), plus, Lucas has one piano lesson per week.  They also have one hour of music theory, and the girls participate in choir.  Anya and Lucas go to the gym 2-4 times a week for acrobatics.  It’s a workout opportunity for Lucas, while Anya is training to compete.  Lucas is a member of Plast – the Ukrainian scout organization.  They meet once a week and have occasional activities (they recently climbed a mountain in the snow!) On Saturdays, Lucas, together with a classmate who lives nearby, go to Lego Robotics club for four hours. Gosh, now that I write it all out, I’m pretty impressed with all that Lucas is involved in, considering how much homework he gets. 

Juggling the drop-offs and pickups – all by foot – is a little tricky and, honestly, exhausting for me.  I really enjoy the walking, just not the having to be places on time with kids and their stuff.  The schedule has given our kids the opportunity to gain some responsibility and independence.  Lucas takes himself to all of the activities, except for Plast (because it’s late in the evening and dark). We usually give him a bit of money for snacks and he buys freshly baked buns that are sold on almost every corner, on the way from one activity to the next. I think this is one of his favorite things.  Sometimes he walks with Anya and they buy their snack together.

I have finally figured out how to make doctor’s appointments and get medical advice from home.  We know how to pull out cash from our American accounts without accruing ridiculous fees.  We’ve figured out the cell phone and internet stuff.  I have a system of where to buy the best groceries.  Zach and I recently purchased our first pairs of jeans here.  They were quite expensive but the custom hemming was done within twenty minutes and for a mere four dollars.  Most importantly, we found Zach’s insulin at a pharmacy nearby.  It’s the exact same brand and manufacturer and costs less than a tenth of the American price ($24 vs $290). 

In October, we purchased a car and immediately took it for a spin to Slovenia. After driving through four countries, and getting just one massive ticket, we’re good at road-tripping through Europe.  I am so excited about all the doors that are now open to us and have planned several travel routes of various lengths already. 

I thought that some “life calling” kind of opportunity will present itself to me I’ll feel like I have a special purpose here, an opportunity to apply my skills and contribute something to the community.  That hasn’t happened.  Most of the doors I’ve knocked on have led to other doors, which all have led to dead ends. It’s been disheartening.  On the bright side, as the weather warms, I’m expecting more opportunities to work with English speaking tourists.  This pushes me to learn more about history and culture, which I enjoy.  I’m also translating a memoir from Ukrainian to English and have gotten into a nice routine of working for a couple of hours a day on it while kids are at school and Zach is at work. 

My boss at Portland Community College contacted me in January asking if I’ll be back to teaching classes in the fall. This forced me and Zach to have some very important conversations and put pressure on our uncertain timeline.  Since the kids are just now turning that cultural and linguistic corner, we decided that another school year would nicely solidify their new skills, and give them an opportunity to really enjoy being here instead of living in “survival mode.” 

After the huge investment it took to get settled here, it makes sense to get a bit more of a reward.  Plus, with the car, I’ll be able to do a more family history aimed trips around the Lviv area, we’ll certainly drive around Europe more – I am thinking Romania, Bulgaria, Germany, Croatia, and northern Italy.  For Zach, Finland is apriority. Plus, returning back is going to be another adjustment and I don’t know if I’m entirely ready for that yet. 

The kids are signed up for a few local summer camps already.  They’ll repeat the two-week day camp, “Vacation with God”, in my hometown, Drohobych.  They really liked it last year, said the food was good, the leaders were kind, and they liked all the games and field trips.  Lucas will go to Plast (scout) camp for two weeks – first time living in tents without the family.  The girls will go to a two-week camp in the mountains that focuses on ecology and local medicinal plants.  I am so excited for them to experience Ukrainian mountains, cabin life, a lot of socializing with other Ukrainian kids, the outdoors, and all that comes with being away from their parents. 

Truthfully, I can’t say that I feel like we really belong here.  There are frequent reminders that twenty years of being away, during the most crucial developmental time in my life, has huge consequences.  We also don’t have a close group of friends, but I’ve finally started to accept that we probably won’t, and that that’s totally ok.  Luckily, Zach and I still enjoy spending time together and haven’t run out of things to talk about. 

I think this summer and the following school year will be incredibly rewarding as the kids become more confident, more independent, and bilingual.  Then, right after the winter holidays we will begin our transition back to life in Oregon. 

Of course, a lot of things have changed between March and August of 2020… Part 2 coming soon.