My first new years party was at the new pizzeria that just opened downtown. About thirty teachers were there and I sat at the end of one table with Boris and Sergey. Boris is the school IT guy, runs all 23 computers and helps teachers with anything computer or printer related. He's 23 and went to a technical school rather than university. Sergey is one of the PE teachers, his dad told him it was a good job to stay healthy. He's 25 and they are the only other young male teachers out of the 80 some teachers at this school. They both have a bit more English than I have Ukrainian at this point. It was the typical party spread, the table absolutely covered with food and drink, and a constant flow as the evening progressed. By the end of the evening our end of the table was affectionately called the boys, and any uneaten food was passed down to us and promptly consumed. The party lasted 4-5 hours, during which time I consumed 2 salads, 2 sandwiches, 25 pidgin wings, 2 pineapple ham pizzas (12 inch), two milkshakes an ice cream sundae and a few liters of juice and water. Now I did forget lunch earlier in the day, and Boris and Sergey purposefully didn't eat earlier, in order to capitalize on the feast. We definitely ate our way through the 52 griven price tag, and generally had a merry time. I was prompted to give a toast at one point, and managed in broken Ukrainian to say something about wanting to become colleagues and friends, wishing everyone relaxing holidays, and a productive spring semester. At least that's what I think I said.
My second New Years party was with my host parents. I was quietly reading Julia Alverez "In the time of Butterflies" having resigned myself to a quiet new years on the couch since it was obvious that Andre's party at the pizzeria was another by invite only affair, and I didn't really feel like spending another 70 grivna, and it was cold to walk the 15 min into town. So it was quite a surprise when furniture was rearranged, salad made, fruit cut up, meat, cheese, bread, cookies, candy and champagne were lit by candle light and I promptly became the third wheel in a very romantic new years observation. We watched Putin give his speech, and the fireworks in Moscow, then Ukrainian president Ushenko and the fireworks in Kyiv, then the president of Poland and the fireworks in Warsaw . It was quite fancy, host mom even getting a bit dressed up, and our living room window giving a perfect view of the modest fireworks of Velyki Mosty. The presidential speeches were interesting, probably more so if I could understand more than a few words. The national anthems of these three counties were serious, not at all like the American triumphant content melody which leaves you in at least the same mood you started, if not a bit more optimistic. The Slavic anthems sounded more like the end of something, a sad movie, a minor symphony, a Shakespeare play where most characters die. I'm not an expert on how anthems are picked, and whether they actually reflect national character, but it certainly would make an interesting music/sociology/ethnography/psychology research paper.
The third new years party was on the banks of the Rata river, about 3 kilometers downstream from my town. Again with host parents, Andre still sleeping from the night before. Late afternoon, northeast wind, light snow, a crackling fire with a kettle of fish soup and a pan of goat meat sizzling on the coals. Apparently a 25 year old tradition of these three couples, who normally met at this spot every Sunday during the summer, and on new years day every year. I was promptly served a bowl of spicy fish soup, with a whole fish in it. I guess if the fish is under 6 inches, no gutting is required. I was not sure how to eat a whole fish, nor sure I was quite hungry enough to attempt it with only a spoon and my teeth. I observed the others, and couldn't figure out how, but they all ended up with only the head, spine and tail, the rest of the meat miraculously gone. How hard could it be? I started eating the fish, got about half way through the meat when the guts broke open. I can't say it was incredibly appetizing watching fish poop, algae and small pebbles infiltrate the rest of my soup. Why do fish eat pebbles? I then started contemplating where these fish were caught, remembering that I was downstream of the sewage treatment plant, and now knowing exactly what 1970's soviet sewage treatment technology was, I decided to wonder behind the cars (one of which was a 1983 Volkswagen golf) and slyly stomp my fish into the snow. I ate the rest of the soup, remembering Simran's algae smoothies, and avoiding the pebbles, which was easy since they sink. It was really fun to play with the fire, and made me miss the yearly fire play at the Santa Fe meeting house with the Faralitos.
