Whew. Sorry that took a while. My normal choice of browsers at the library, Opera wasn't letting me sign in. It took me until today to think of, doh! why not try Internet Explorer? How archaic, but...that's Ukraine. ;)
There's always so much to tell, I'm just going to have to start picking stories I guess. My most recent is the gas leak in my apartment, which happened yesterday. I was just putting my soup onto my gas stove for it to cook all day (why does it take so long for beans to cook here? Yes, I soak them overnight. Sometimes even 2 or 3 nights. But I still have to boil them for 2 days...) when my trusty Peace Corps issued smoke detector/carbon monoxide detector started screeching and telling me (it talks) "carbon monoxide, carbon monoxide" over and over again. After turning off the gas stove and my colonka...
definition of a colonka excerpted from an email update:
"....in my apartment is a Colonka. I don't think this contraption has an English translation, but it's fabulous. I was terrified of these contraptions when I first got to Ukraine because everytime I see a Ukrainian talking about one they always make the hand motions that resemble Chernobyl blowing up. That's because a Colonka is a fabulous gas ball of death that you have to treat very carefully and get to know very well, but when you do, provides all the hot water you can ask for because the fiery death ball inside of it heats the pipes where your water flows through until you turn off the gas (carefully). I love it. Especially because (so far) my Colonka is very mild mannered and well behaving."
...and trying unsuccessfully to pry the batteries out of the beeping/talking alarm, I call who else? My PCV friend Katie Backus. I knew Katie could tell me what to do. Not only is Katie a smart, resourceful PCV, but she has also had many a crazy thing happen to her in Ukraine, including I knew, a gas leak. She says, "Open windows." Check. "Go outside." Check. (My brain was getting pretty fuzzy at this point, glad she was telling me the obvious.) "Call 04."
Well. "04" is the number in Ukraine to call if you have a gas leak (I'm beginning to think this is more common than we once thought...). But I'm outside. You have to call 04 from a landline. Hence, the problem with 04. So, we decide together. I'll wait for 5 minutes, go back in and see if I smell gas. I don't. And my carbon monoxide detector isn't going off anymore. But as soon as I go back I feel lightheaded again, and obviously if my trusty detector is detecting, someone should come and check this all out right? Should I call 04 and tell them I smell gas, which I don't, just because that is the only safety language concerning gas that the peace corps taught us, and that will get them here, or...not.
Katie convinces me to call Sergey, our Safety and Security Officer, or in other words, our own Personal Badass Possibly Mofia-related Bodyguard, fondly known by PCVs as "Papa Sergey". "Hi Sarah. I am coming back from Moldova right now. Can I call you later if it's not an emergency?" "It is an emergency Sergey. I have a gas leak." "Okay. I will call you in 20 minutes." "Sergey! IT IS an emergency. EMERGENCY. SERGEY." "Aw. Emergency? I will call you now." I love Sergey. He has his assistant Andrey, who I'm beginning to learn is pretty badass himself, call me back and take care of me. Andrey calls 04 and tells me 40 minutes. He talks to PCMO (Peace Corps Medical) and they say it's fine for me to wait inside with all the windows open. He tells me to call me when the gas guy gets there and hand him the phone so Andrey can explain the situation to him. Hmm.. 2 and a half hours later Andrey calls me to "make sure I'm still alive". Yes..but no gas guy. And I'm really feeling lightheaded now. Just as Andrey calls to check where the hell they are, the gas guy rings my bell....and asks me to sign this paper saying that everything is fine with my gas. Which I understood, but...thankfully Andrey was a phone call away because he explained, no I will not sign this paper, no everything is not okay, no one's even been there yet!
So he comes in. Fixes the leak. I keep the windows open all day because NOW it smells like gas since he's been testing everything in my apartment. Andrey gives me the heads up that while I'm not expected to pay him, I will be expected to "tip" him. Thanks Andrey. What a lifesaver. ;) I cook my soup. For 14 hours. Finally I get to eat at 9. The beans are still crunchy, but I'm alive, which is nice. To all of you that I know haven't put up your PC issued detectors yet, let this story, plus Katie's story, plus that 50 year old Colonka on your wall serve as inspiration to, please, take it out of the box.
Turns out THIS is why I couldn't concentrate on studying Ukrainian all morning. No, really...it was...
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2 comments:
Interesting bit about Papa Sergey. When there was an apartment explosion in DP a couple weeks ago, blowing up half of a 10-story building, Sergey called me a day later and asked me if I thought that all of the PCVs in the area where okay. I was far away, in the safety of a small village killing rabbits and large rats at the time, but I asked him if shouldn't he be telling ME if everyone is okay or not? It was a really random conversation to be sure.
WOW! I didn't get a chance to read this until just now. 1) I am so glad you are okay. 2) Your narrative is hillarious. I do always enjoy the way you capture your experiences and describe them. 3) Glad to know you have some badasses to take care of things, albeit, after much prodding on your part. ;-)
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