Odesa: The nameless emotion

First EU airport of my latest holiday touring. Generic café. Long layover on my way to Mostar, the pretty bridge. 

Last year I wrote about my impressions in the Korea that smiles you first and the enviably organised Japan. The many tastes of Kimchy and the anxious stroll from lessons not quite learned after Hiroshima. 

And connecting to the theme of lessons not quite learned, the urge to write starts with that emotion I cannot name but I am carrying with me as a refuge while I transit crowded airports again and passers-by speak languages I understand. For now, I cherish "the" emotion and I feel like I could have been in another life while I realise that I don't have enough with the one life I've been given to live all the lives I want to live. 

The short, high season holidays of the teacher have taken me this time to central Asia. After that I have lingered in Eastern Europe, as a transition to ease the pain of slowly saying goodbye to long days and time to let life sink in. I chose Moldavia as a strategic resting spot to see where to head next depending on how life would unfold. And life asked me to go to Odesa, because I have always loved the name and because I wanted to see her in her full beauty in case there is more fighting to do. And I promise to join the countrywide rave party if this absurd war ends soon. Word. 

Before heading there I contacted hosts online and I was positively surprised on how fast they responded. A girl caught my attention because she liked to paint words on walls, dance in abandoned places and she had a cat named Thomas. And she answered me and I knew I had to meet her. Off to Odesa it is! 

The journey: 

Instead of the touristic bus I chose to buy a ticket for one of the smaller vans. They were arriving earlier and I wanted to make the most of my weekend on the Ukranian coast. I made the journey with a few Ukranians, squished in the back by 3 very overweight people who reeked of cigarettes. You couldn't hardly see me and it was so bouncy I thought I was going to hit my head to the roof. Even they helped me stay on the seat, because the seat was also unscrewed and I was bouncing around like of those dashboard dolls. 

The border crossing: 

It went fast. The official took my passport, looked at it, looked at me and shrugged. Indeed. No words needed. 

The arrival: 

Upon arrival my mission was to get to the beach. I was meeting my host near the monument to the unknown sailor. 

Behind it was the sea and a bunch of bombed/abandoned maritime factories. One of them was a squatted house that accommodates people who need to use the space as an atelier. The beautiful part is that they come together in the summer months and do residency in the squat. The place is no luxury complex, but it has some charm and a life of its own. My host explained to me how the noise of the port and the cargo train soothed her. After spending the night I understood. 

The complex

The space

My host:

I will call her according to her insta account and invite anyone to see her art: Temple of Pain. A young tatoo artist/painter and lately jewel maker. She quotes herself as: "just so depressed" and with no sight into the future, something that stroke a string in me. It didn't surprise me, it didn't make me paternalistic sad, but this new no future has stayed ingrained in my brain. 

We started the day with some meat free Brosh soup and a walk around the city with a stopover in a private art gallery. 

The front yard of the gallery 

Despite the language barrier we were able to talk about life in general, a lot about the absurdity of this war, the war you see and the one that crawls slowly under the skin and gives you new habits you do unconsciously.

We also agreed in how hard it is to be a man in times of war, how war has dominated history and how trauma gets passed by because mental health doesn't seem to be as important as the physical one. 

We had time to talk of all things we agreed in: compassion, human greed and stupidity, the world we see change so fast, community (whanau) and cats! Ukranian cats are the most friendly I have seen. Street cats come to you if you call them and greet you so politely!, they come for a cuddle and then they get on with their lives in their cosy apartments on street level. 

The community: 

My host wanted to make sure that I was comfortable in the place because it is different to my cuqui-Dutchie-cutie life. Yes, it might look abandoned and not too preserved, but it feels peaceful and safe. Different is good, but maybe not better if you have a definition of better.

It is the people who make the place (and the weather, and the food). And I could feel that human warmth, the love and respect they had for each other. As someone who could have been their mum, and as a teacher who sometimes loses faith in humanity I was very proud to see young people living up to the values we should be living for.

The thing I liked, despite the absurdity of the current situation and the generation at play: there is no drug consumption, not in the way I am used to seeing in young people or alternative lifestyles. If that remains so, they can groew stronger in an ongoing present together. 

Dinner:

It is refreshing to be in an Eastern European country and know that there are a bunch of people who also  don't see meat as an edible. It makes life much more normal, it gives life much more sense. As a guest I took care of the groceries and Temple of Pain came up with the idea of fresh veggie, spicy rice and falafel wraps. Everybody gathered by the fire for dinner and young people kept coming in and out of the terrace. After dinner a happy tummy silence reigned and music took the space as the sun went down. We played some charades, frisbee and I was ready to go to bed by midnight.

The night: 

The room I stayed in faces the port. If you think further it can feel daunting. Not long ago the Russians were bombing that same area to disable activities. And you cannot not think about it. But the noise of the port activities is really soothing. It gives a sense of normalcy. The sirens of the cargo trucks, the trains and the whistles took over and became my lullaby. I slept nearly 12 hours on and off, and could have slept longer to that white noise. 

The bedroom with views to the port

The purpose:

My time to leave was nearing and I had asked my host to sell me one of the jewels she makes. I have a pact with my sister regarding presents and it reads: we don't look for presents for each other. If a present finds me, I buy it. And it found me. And it answered Temple of Pain's question to: Why are you coming to the Ukraine? My sister's birthday is nearing and a present was looking for me. And it has a story and it also has an emotion I can't name, but one I hope she will also feel. 

the purpose

I will miss so much hearing  languages I don't understand.