In May 2021, Diana Stevan released her novel Lilacs in the Dust Bowl, which follows her grandmother’s story immigrating to Canada from Ukraine.
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I miss Ukraine. A lot.
At this point, you could swap out “Ukraine” in that first sentence with a number of things. Dance practice, family meals, friend hangouts not through a screen, when breaking news was just that and not a new constant in our lives. But because my focus for this blog is Ukraine, I’m going to leave that sentence as is.
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The kitchen is a magical place.
It’s where food is cooked up, where everyone seems to gather — no matter how many people there are and no matter how much space outside of the kitchen there is — and it’s also where, at least in my house, I review classic Ukrainian polkas with family.
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The new year is almost here.
And if you believe in the magic of repeating numbers, 2020 is going to be a good one.
And if you don’t, 2020 is still going to be a good one.
At the start of this year, I put up the post “Why I glare at you when you whistle indoors: A guide to Ukrainian superstitions.” And it’s time for round two.
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I’ve tried starting this post about five different ways.
My idea was to start with the most exciting and most interesting part, mid-story, then go back to the start. Except the thing was, there were many “most exciting” parts — me, sitting on the bus, full of anticipation and curiosity and wonder and mild confusion, on my way out to my family’s village; the car ride to my family’s house when the guy next to me, a friend of my cousin’s, kept sniffing my armpit; driving (OK, speeding) into town with my cousin and his friends when all of a sudden one of them pulls a bottle of horilka (vodka) from under the seat and passes it around for a shot; the bathroom experience at the gas station (the punchline: there was no toilet); having a final (couple) drink(s) in the car outside my family’s home at who-knows-what-time AM.
Instead, why don’t I just start at the beginning?
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I felt like a superstar as I came down the escalator in Winnipeg's airport.
There they were, my family and friends, standing on the hug rug, some wearing shirts they bought in Ukraine, holding a sign saying WELCOME HOME KAITY!
Getting closer and closer, going down the escalator, the smiles grew bigger (didn't know that was even possible), the tears started flowing (people on the escalator turned around to see what the deal was), and then it happened. We were reunited.
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People jump up at a willow tree in a public square, grabbing low hanging branches to be blessed in church.
A boy laughs and runs around his grandma, trying to hit his dad with pussy willows.
Hundreds of people gather, ladies with their heads covered in scarves, waiting for their turn to go into church.
These are just a few scenes from Easter in Ukraine. I saw some Easter celebrations in Lutsk, like Palm Sunday and a large pysanky display, but I went to Lviv for Orthodox Easter weekend (April 7 to 9). Cobblestone Freeway Tours had a couple things planned for us girls, and my parents joined too.
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Happy New Year!
I hope your holiday season was full of health and happiness, and if you're still celebrating (like us Ukrainians), may your stamina be strong (Old New Years is today, but the celebrations aren't done yet!).
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I've been away from my family and friends for three and a half months. As I'm sure you can imagine, I miss them. But I wouldn't say I'm home sick. Just "people sick."
I miss lunches at Baba and Gigi's, sibling dinner dates, running around with my niece and nephew, answering my mom's technology questions (though, this is still ongoing), checking out a sports game with my dad, and laughing, eating, singing, dancing, and chatting with my friends.
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