After meeting the Peace Corps’ nine-month requirement of living with Ukrainian host families, it was time for me to spread my wings and try the independent living option. Looking for a place is never fun, but apartment hunting in a foreign country is even more of a challenge. I started by looking on OLX.com, a Ukrainian eBay-like site, and even tried posting flyers near the entryways of buildings that looked suitable. I asked around at church and a lady did have an available apartment, but it was a little too far away. I was looking for a place near the center of town, within walking distance to work,
where I could hopefully avoid having to take the marshrutkas I so came to dread. As my search dragged on for over a month, finding such a place that also fell within the Peace Corps’ housing allowance started to look like it wouldn’t be possible.
But as the days drew closer to the end of my six months with the Levitzkys, Alex’s mom, with the help of a real estate agent friend of hers, came to the rescue and found a one-bedroom apartment on Potomkinska Street, about a 12-minute walk from the office, and within budget. One afternoon, Oksana, Sergei and I walked over there to meet the agent and the landlords and check out the place. Everything checked out fine according to them. It was clean, cozy and close to everything. Of course I told them I’d need to think it over, but really, I knew right away that this was the place for me.
So Friday evening I let Alex know that I liked the place and wanted to take it. Saturday afternoon he drove me over with my luggage and we sat down with the agent and the landlords Luba and Vanya, handed over the cash and signed a six-month agreement. By three o’clock, I had the keys to my own place! By five o’clock I was celebrating happy hour on Soborna Street—Ukraine’s longest pedestrian street, and the social hub of Mykolaiv.
The landlords
At this writing, it’s been over six months since I moved in, and I’m still loving having my own place. Luba and Vanya are quite a kick. It’s almost like they’re my new host family. When I first moved in, they were always leaving me food, candy, soap and other household items on the stool outside my door.
I figured it was the typical Ukrainian hospitality to welcome me and help get me started but they haven’t let up one bit. Whatever fruit or vegetable is in season, I can count on having plenty of it. She was giving me so many cherries last spring, I had to start bagging them up and freezing them. But the best is coming home after work and finding a bowl of borscht, or some other home-cooked dish, waiting on the stool. It always makes me chuckle, and grateful that I don’t have to make dinner that night.
A month after I moved in, they invited me to come over and celebrate Ukrainian Orthodox Christmas Eve, which falls on January 6. It lived up to be one of those legendary Ukrainian celebrations I’d read about before coming here, with Luba bringing out course after course of traditional Ukrainian dishes, singing folk songs, Vanya playing accordion and me joining in on my harmonica, dancing, and numerous vodka toasts. When it came my turn to proclaim a toast, I thanked them for their warmth and hospitality and said this was an experience I’d always remember. I also had my first taste of samahon (homemade vodka, or Ukrainian moonshine), and after a couple of those, Vanya was hugging me and telling me I was one of the family. Around midnight, we drained a final “one for the horse” shot (which is like, “one for the road” in America) and Luba loaded me up with a plate of leftovers. Good thing home was only a walk across the hall!