DAY TWO Today we drove across the country to Ternopol. We stopped at the grave of the Baal Shem Tov (founding father of Hasidism). The headstone it self was a rather ugly smooth cut marble looking slab with his name on it. It looked about two years old. The other headstones in the cemetery were far more interesting, as they had dates and were missing corners and looked their age. Took some pictures of the surrounding village and of the caretaker- an old man who was more than willing to show off his knowledge of Hebrew.
Then we "helped lead" the seder with two Chabbadnick boys who were just barely old enough to start growing facial hair. By "helping lead," I mean that we taught some songs and conducted the entire seder minus all the blessings in the hour between when all the people arrived and when the Chabbadnicks decided it was lawfully permissible to start. They didn't bring any kill-time activities of their own. When they got center stage they read all the blessings and some teachings by their
rebbe and generally bored the audience.
At night we ate ice cream in our hotel restaurant. The ice cream came in cubes!!! This was the most exciting thing that had happened to us all day.
also we have learned to read Russian.
DAY THREE Today was up and down and up and down. We had a lovely breakfast of greasy eggs and cheese and tomatoes. (Adam did not eat his tomatoes.) The Ukrainians refused to prepare for the seder that night with us, claiming that we had time later. So we went upstairs to our room and listened to Miriam complain. Then on to our first home visits!!!!!
The first lady was this small little white-haired and blue-eyed thing. She was lying in her bed in the middle of the living room. We all piled in and sat on chairs around the room. This woman used to be a piano teacher. She had broken her hand and leg nine months before, and so she was both housebound and unable to play piano. We gave her a little plastic egg-shaker (courtesy of Craig and Co. Friday Night Live) to shake with her good hand while we sang to her. She cried when we sang. We looked at all of her family pictures.
The next woman we visited had lived in Israel for 10 years at some point in her life, so we were excited at the prospect of communication. However, she could barely remember any Hebrew so we had to go back to relying on our Ukrainians for interpretation. BUT. We noticed that she did keep some Israeli in her by the way her apartment was decorated. It was not normal Ukrainian. There were snatches that were pure Israel (which, by the way, does not have a perfect record in the way of tasteful home decor, either), like her embroidered sofa pillows, and some of the wall hangings. She had these door curtains that were made out of paper-clip chains wrapped up with bits of world maps and magazine cut-outs. The effect was a cascade of little colored pieces framing the doorways. She had a lampshade that was covered in pins-- airlines pins, boy-scout pins, army pins. Her sofa was covered in a big red fake fur cloth. Adam had his big moment when we did
kiddush there.
Before our next home visit we did a tour of Jewish Ternopol. We saw the cemetary (far removed from the village, headstones in good shape except for some had fallen over) where Shai Agnon's relatives are buried and the monument dedicated to Jews killed in WWII.
We walked into the next house and every available surface was covered in crochet hook/carpet hook things (what DO you call them?). This woman had done crochet/hook her entire life. She gave us one and signed the back (in Russian, but don't worry, we can read it). We sang to her and to her son who was lying in bed watching TV in the next room. Was rather unsettling to find out that he had no legs.
Went out to dinner, got annoyed at counterparts because they took FOREVER to finish eating and smoking their cigarettes and talking on the cell phone they weren't supposed to use. We ordered salads and borsht and french-fries. Killed some time watching the two women next to us drink several cups of vodka. Yet again unable to prepare for seder which was immediately following dinner. Instead, arrived late.
The best thing is that we weren't late to the actual seder. You see, we arrived 10 minutes after we were supposed to come, but still 50 minutes before the Chabbadnickim (yup, those same guys) would deem it appropriate to start. Rather than repeat the previous night's performance and sit through their coma-inducing shtick again, we took charge. We spent several minutes preparing for the seder-- writing song lyrics on poster board, cutting out fake mustaches for the four sons, and telling the "Rabbis" (that's what our Ukrainians called them and it's easier to type) what to do. We decided that during the remaining 45 minutes before we could start the seder, we Americans/Ukrainians would teach some songs, and the "Rabbis" would tell a story. During the actual seder, we Americans/Ukrainians would do the interesting explanations and the Rabbis would do the blessings. These boys proved even more useless than I thought they would. First of all, they didn't know any Russian. So they spoke to us Americans in Hebrew, and we translated into English for our Ukrainians. Second, they couldn't even think of a story to tell!! They insisted they had no kill-time activities to do until the seder could actually start. I was unimpressed. So we basically told them which story to tell (the one about the two brothers bringing wheat to the other and then they meet at the top of the hill at night). The pre-seder went great. We put the Rabbis on stage to do the opening
Kiddish and they started reading some long and boring piece about the Rebbe!!! It was really ridiculous. Despite this, the seder went really well, about 1,000 times better than the night before.
Then the really cool part. We are driving home from the seder and our Ukrainians ask Adam to play guitar so that we could all sing. He said OK, but the drive home is only about 1 minutes. They insisted we had enough time. So he played and we were singing and singing and singing, all types of songs-- Pesach songs, Israeli pop songs (they like
Yachad ), American songs (they like Oh Suzanna), rock songs, the Beatles, national anthems-- it was great. Then we noticed that it had been about half an hour, and we had passed our hotel four times!!! They told us that they had asked our driver to drive around the city so that we could sing in the van.
then we watched the election debates on TV in our hotel room, which were taped in a studio IDENTICAL to Who Wants to be a Millionaire. With the lights and everything.
some jokes/funny things/random quotes
we played a game called "Dubbing," where we decide what the politicians on TV are saying (though we can read Russian, we do not really understand it). The next day we played it with our Ukrainians, who we suspect talk a lot about us behind our backs.
MIPIAM SITS IN THE BAP EATING PICE WITH MOTHER PUSSIA (but not on Pesach). This statement continues to be funny the entire trip. (remember that in Russian "R" looks like "P.")
Adam ate about a quarter of an onion raw just because I told him to. He also sat on our (Mine and Miriam's) floor at night and drank four cups of nasty Kiddish wine.
Andre is our non-tempermental
shomer. "Non-tempermental" is our favorite word. Andre is the name of both our armed guard and our driver.
"You know that point where you've been eating and eating and as long as you keep putting food in your mouth it's fine but as soon as you stop you feel like you are going to puke?" (Adam)
