wMy Adventures in ...
This blog started when I came to Ukraine to do an internship in September 2002. It is a collection of notes on the time I spend in Ukraine. Now, after I have left Kyiv, I am writing stories of my other adventures.


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wWednesday, February 04, 2004


February 4, 2004

I haven't been writing for a very simple reason. I am expecting a baby and I am very busy with this change in my life. I kept this news to myself because I was (and still am) very much afraid to lose this baby. I am now into my fifth month, so I am making it public. God knows, I can hide my belly any more.

For the past few months I have been writing a bit, so you can check my other blog on all pregnancy related stories: http://roadtomotherhood.blogspot.com

posted by Lidia at 8:33 AM


wMonday, October 27, 2003


October 27, 2003

I haven’t been writing since the blackout, but then it is the only exciting event that happened in Toronto since I came back. I really haven’t been doing anything deserving to qualify as an adventure. My life generally consists of work, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry, gym, dining out (when I don’t feel like cooking, which is pretty often), and occasional movies. So, this is a story of my post blackout no-adventures.

On occasional movies

For the period of past 2 months I can recall four movies. I might have watched more, but they must have been so mediocre that they did not left any imprint in my memory. Of those four that did, the first prize goes to “The Whale Rider” – brilliant and moving coming of age story set in beautiful New Zealand coast.
The second movie worth mentioning is a Montreal story “Mambo Italiano”. It is a movie that is very in tune with two important themes in Ontario – acceptance of gay relationships and intergenerational conflict within immigrant families. Plus, it is a light comedy often compared with “My Fat Greek Wedding”.
The last two spaces are jointly shared by “Underworld” and “The Order”. The Underworld is a war between vampires and werewolves movie. The Order is a story of good and evil within church setting. Both movies are visually dark and low budget. They both are not the best movies but good beginnings for TV serials, and that is definitely what they were made for.

Toronto Fashion Week

I should have watched less of Fashion Television. Many things were compared with the sausage factory at one time or another (including government and the UN). The basic concept of this comparison is that if you have ever been inside the sausage factory and saw how the sausages are made you would never eat one for the rest of your life. Well, now I can add the fashion shows to the list of sausage factory comparisons. If you ever been on one fashion show you might feel serious reservations to going to see another one ever again.

I have been on a few fashion shows before and I had very positive memories about every one of those trips. When I was in my early teens, my mom tried (unsuccessfully) to develop some fashion sense in me. One of her methods was taking me to the fashion atelier in Kaliningrad to see the soviet-styled semi-official fashion shows. I don’t think those shows brought any fashion sense in me, but I have really warm and happy memories of those events. It was something of a mother-daughter activity.

Much later, after I moved to Canada, I got to see another fashion show. In our early stages of dating we went for an Ecological Fashion Show. As I was mostly preoccupied with my company, I have only vague recollections of dresses made from rubber tires and milk cartons.

With Toronto Fashion Week advertised as an event of the year, I decided that we’ve got to go to see at least the Closing Night Gala. Plus, I really felt it is my last chance show off my new outfit from India before winter. Afraid to be late I dragged my husband at precisely the time mentioned on our 25-dollar tickets. Indeed we were just in time to see previous free for all show of accessories. I can understand why it was free: the girls from local ballet school dribbled on the podium ‘wearing’ cell phones and glasses.

To my fury, we spend next two and a half hours standing outside the front door to the show room (at least it was inside the building) waiting till the room will be set up for ‘our’ paid show. All this time groups of people were allowed to get in under the pretext of being the press, the sponsors, the boyfriends and girlfriends of the press and sponsors, the mother and grandmothers of the press and sponsors, the aunts and uncles of the favourite hamster of the grandmothers of the press and sponsors; the list continues … And all those poor idiots like me who actually bought their tickets spent hours waiting when they will be allowed to get in. Of course by the time we were allowed to enter, the room was swamped with better-connected people. We found unoccupied seat of some sponsors and pretended to be them. Fortunately, no one tried to evict me from there. I think it was very clearly written on my face that whoever tries to do that will get additional show with many censored expressions performed by me.

Anyhow with only three-hour delay the show began. I had never heard of that ‘famous’ Catherine Brule or as ‘famous’ singer Glenn Lewis. The dresses shown might (with a huge doubt attached) have looked better if they were made from a quality material. Unfortunately, they were made from the lousiest material imaginable. The quality of the work matched the quality of the material. I could only watch the screen over the runway showing the walking models with disbelief: how such junk can look so good on the TV screen?

Two additions brightened up the show: the plastic performances by the male and female gymnastics artists. I have to say if we wanted to see those performances we could have gone to one of the strip clubs along Yonge Street in downtown Toronto. Still, compare to the rest of the show it was an improvement.

After waiting for the show for nearly three hours, it did not last nearly enough to appease my foul mood. I am never ever going for the Toronto Fashion Week even if they pay me.


posted by Lidia at 11:27 AM


wFriday, August 15, 2003


Blackout in Toronto

As you all know by now, yesterday, August 14, 2003. Toronto, New York, Detroit, and many other cities had a complete blackout. We lost power. As all lights and computers at work went off, I walked home amongst thousands of walking people. It was complete and utter chaos. Subways and streetcars had stopped; cars were running out of gas and being abandoned on the shoulders of highways. As the traffic lights went off the intersections were manned by the Good Samaritans trying to ease the gridlock by directing the traffic.

All stores were closed except some corner stores whose South Asian owners did not see anything wrong in doing cash business under the candlelight. They were doing a brisk business on water, candles, flashlights, and portable radios. Rabba Grocery stores true to their 24/7 notices remained open on the same cash-only basis. Every Rabba store near my house posted an employee to direct the line up of hundreds of people trying to buy water and dried foods. The scene was unpleasantly reminiscent of earlier perestroika years when sudden money exchanges and inflation threw thousands of people to stock up on anything with long shelf life.

Many people I know already have water and power, but my apartment does not. Since yesterday afternoon we are sitting without either unable to flash the toilet or to make a cup of tea. There is no news or anything to do. I came to work in spite of the Declared Provincial Emergency. My office has power and water, which at the very least means that I can make my tea, wash my hands, and read the news. Though in reality I came to work simply because I having to access to information I had no idea that there is an emergency.

Reaching home I was relieved to find that one elevator remained powered by the emergency generator; hence, I don’t need to walk up to my 37th floor. I also found that we have no candles or bottled water or any food. During the Y2K period I used to stockpile all sorts of emergency supplies under the quiet chuckles on my loving husband. Due to our multiple location changes there is nothing left from my emergency supplies at exactly the time we needed it. Who knew? Remembering the huge line of people trying to get to the nearby Rabba we run to stock up. Surprisingly the shopping went in an orderly fashion.

On a negative note we realized that another thing we did not have among our emergency supplies is emergency cash. We found that we have US dollars, British pounds, Indian rupees, Thai baht, Ukrainians grivnas, and lots of other types of money, but no Canadian dollars. As we both belong to a group of people who believe in plastic, neither of us normally has any cash in hand. You can always take cash from a cash machine if you need it providing, of course, if there is power. Who would have guessed that cash dispensers require power to operate? Apparently, not I. As a result of inability to predict province-wide blackout, we were left with 40 dollars of cash for two of us. ‘Survival supply’ shopping left us with half of it.

Fortunately, the pizza place next door felt that there is a business to be made and continued to take credit cards and make pizza. We took full advantage of this situation.
The streets were full of people. I have never seen so many people just walking on the streets, sitting on the open patios listening to the radios and swapping the rumours. The downtown looked more alive than I have ever seen it. The overall mood was rather festive as people prowled the streets in search of hot food and water. With nothing to do in their houses and with no air-conditioning working, people we looking for reassurance and comfort with each other.

Coming back home, we bought a huge candle with picture of a St. Joseph. Under its deem light we went to sleep hoping that it all would be back to normal tomorrow. It was not. Morning there was still no water (and still there is none) or power. Splashing my face with water from the bottle, I can only think why there is a surprise that there are riots in Basra? They’ve been sitting without water and power for a month. If I don’t get water by next week, there will be a riot here too.


posted by Lidia at 9:41 AM


wTuesday, July 29, 2003


Montreal: the last bastion of Europe in North America

The calendar tells me that I came back to Toronto from the grand trip of Asia only three months ago, but I feel that I have been here for ages. By the end of last week my desperation for any change of scenery became so pressing that I declared that going ANYWHERE is better than staying in town. Manoj gave up and instead of taking me ‘anywhere’ suggested a mini-vacation in Montreal. Since we both have been there before, the purpose of this trip could be succinctly described as ‘eat and sleep’ holiday.

For Europeans, driving more than five hundred kilometres for weekend trip might appear strange, but in North America it is quite normal. This distance would have normally taken us 4.5 hours (and it did on the way back), but not on the way to Montreal. Even skipping from work an hour earlier did not save us from the ‘cottage crowd’. Every Friday the great number of Torontonians head off out of Toronto to spend weekend in their cottages. Cottage could be described as a little house somewhere in a forest up North where people go fishing, swimming, hiking, etc. It is similar to Russian ‘dacha’, but no one grows potatoes out there. Anyhow, every Friday this crowd literally floods the highways reducing the speed to a crawl. Our attempt to sneak out of the city before the tide hit the road had failed. It took us more than two hours to drive thirty kilometres out of the city. We made it to Montreal only by eleven spending more than 6 hours driving.

My most favourite activity in Montreal relates to food. In this vibrant and alive city you can go out at midnight and find a nice restaurant that would serve a superb French cuisine. After distinctly Americanized Toronto where the only place you can have meal after 10 p.m. is Chinatown, European Montreal feels like a breath of fresh air. At least to us, sitting on the open patio, munching perfectly roasted duck, sipping red wine, and listening French language mixed with Moroccan music, it felt like we are back to our beloved France.

People-watching from the patio forces to compare demographics of Toronto and Montreal: both cities mirror the demographics of the respective empires of origin. Toronto is an Asian city with visible minorities outnumbering the ‘majority’ and with Mandarin becoming the second most spoken language after English (followed by Hindi). The majority of newcomers to Canada settle in Toronto. The wave of immigrants from Hong Kong, Mainland China, Taiwan, India, Sri Lanka, etc. gave the city its distinctly oriental flavour. Every time I come back here after spending some time in Europe nothing hits me more than the numbers of people from East and South East Asia. On the contrary, Montreal is Caribbean cum Arabic cum African city with immigrants from former French colonies imprinting their cultures: it is a city of Lebanese, Moroccans, Algerians, Jamaicans, Congolese, etc. If in Toronto you go for dim sum, in Montreal you look for your kebabs.


posted by Lidia at 7:32 AM


wWednesday, July 16, 2003


On Geeks and Trekkers

Or Once you Have Their Money, Never Give it Back
Rule #1 of The Ferengi Rules of Acquisition

I have been whining about never having a chance to go to any of my beloved anime conventions. So, my husband sneakily pointed out that there is a Star Trek Convention happening in Toronto. I think he was trying to kill two birds with one stone: (1) to remove me from home so he can get some quiet study time and (2) to be able to say “See, you’ve gone to a convention before” next time I try to whine about not going to some other convention. In any case, he just wanted to make me happy.

Well, after first “Nah” reaction, by the end of Friday the 11th I decided that I have to do something drastic to uplift my developing depression. And what can be more drastic in peaceful Toronto than a Star Trek Convention? So, after getting home from work I was dropped off at Regal Constellation Hotel near the airport. I could not persuade my husband to join me, but he still did not mind spending more than an hour to drive me to the convention place. Another thirty minutes standing in a line up for registration, and I was off to the first panel discussion on Gundam Saga. I think it is a first time in my life I found other adult people (I do consider myself an adult, though it has been questioned) discussing subject of Japanese anime series with serious faces and passion.

Few more anime-related discussions later I was off for dinner. The open café at the hotel featured a variety of Vulkan, Klingon, Ferengi, and other assorted races. As I was sitting alone, I was joined by a nice member of a Klingon society of Montreal who gave me an enlightening overview of Klingon pronunciation and writing. He also informed me that Klingon is very close language to Welsh and demonstrated that with series of phrases.

From him I found, and later conformed by visiting a Klingon literature booths in the dealers' room, that there is indeed The Klingon Dictionary: Klingon – English, English – Klingon. I remember laughing at this guy in Fraser TV series whose aim in life was to write that dictionary. Apparently, someone named Marc Okrand already did.

Checking Amazon provided this description:
[The Klingon Dictionary is the first comprehensive sourcebook for Klingon language and syntax, including fundamental rules of grammar as well as words and expressions that illustrate the complex nature of Klingon culture. It features a precise pronunciation guide, rules for proper use of affixes and suffixes, and a small phrasebook with Klingon translations for essential expressions such as "Activate the transport beam," "Always trust your instincts," and the ever-popular "Surrender or die!"]

Another book that attracted my attention at the dealers’ room was The Klingon Hamlet. I think the poor Shakespeare is turning in his grave at this Amazon.com editorial:

[“For too long, readers throughout the Federation have been exposed to The Tragedy of Khamlet, Son of the Emperor of Qo'nos, that classic work of Klingon™ literature, only through inadequate and misleading English translations. Now at last, thanks to the tireless efforts of the Klingon Language Institute, this powerful drama by the legendary Klingon playwright, Wil'yam Shex'pir, can be appreciated in the elegance and glory of its original tongue.”
...
“For non-Klingon speakers, there is Shakespeare's original text, an English-language introduction, and detailed endnotes, very wittily presented. These put forward the case that Shakespeare himself was a Klingon, and underline the essentially Klingon nature of this famous play, with its themes of honor and revenge. In creating the tragic figure of Hamlet, with his very un-Klingon propensity for brooding and procrastination, Shakespeare is believed to have been commenting on a culture becoming alienated from its traditional warlike virtues, and we are told that most Klingons find it a deeply disturbing play.”] Disturbing indeed. Though I found more disturbing the fact of publishing a book of Shakespeare in Klingon.

After such an enlightening dinner I attended few profound discussions of concepts of romance in Buffy series. It is amazing just how many people remember all the names and episodes of this and many, many other sci-fi series. The Buffy heckling party was immensely popular. You know how sometimes you watch a movie and you really want to say what you think about one scene or the other? Well, during this show you can. And lots of people did.

I did not stay for the full length of Klingon karaoke, though I think I can appreciate some songs better after listening them in Klingon language. I wish the original singers heard that too.

Anyhow, leaving the hotel I found my husband engrossed in a lively discussion with couple of blue haired Sailor Moons. For those who don’t know who Sailor Moon is – it is a character from a Japanese cartoon.

I did not attend the following two days of the convention. One day was sufficient. I have to admit it is a great pleasure to know that there are many geeks in the world and many of them are a lot geekier than I.


posted by Lidia at 8:31 AM


wMonday, June 30, 2003


On Being Proud

When Canadians talk about Canada the recurrent word is “proud”. You hear a lot about proud Canadians, proud Ukrainians, proud Arcadians, etc. If you live in Toronto the word “proud” takes on a slightly different colour during the last week of June – the Pride Week. It is the time to don your pink boa, violet stilettos, a wig, leather pants and be “proud”. I feel strongly for the rights of all people to do whatever they want in the privacy of their bedroom as long as they are consenting adults. Combine that with the love to party; and I have missed only one Pride Parade since coming to Canada.

The Parade is a culmination of weeklong parties, events, and parades. This year’s events were scaled down because of SARS, which scared not tourists but rather sponsors, who got scared that SARS would scare tourists. At the end the tourists were there, may be in less numbers that before, but still in significant numbers, but the money were not. The floats were scaled down and, as we heard some onlooker saying, it was “tamer”. Still, the leather men were predictably in leather, the Latin American groups were recreating Rio carnival, and the members of the nudist community were wearing appropriate outfits. If you are asking what outfits they would be wearing – think again – and not all of them should be ‘dressing up’ that way.

Unlike the previous years the weather was perfect: cloudy and nicely cool. The drag queens sufficiently numerous, entertaining and being close to outnumbered by politicians. With upcoming mayoral elections most of the potential candidates came to woo the votes of the gay community. It is a community that votes and has a disposable income to donate.

One thing I love about Toronto is its tolerance and air of freedom. In this city you can truly be yourself. The only other city where I felt the same way was London.



posted by Lidia at 2:22 PM


wMonday, June 23, 2003


On being back to Toronto.
Ten Things. Number Two: the Length of Holidays.

Coming back to Toronto in seriously depressing. Most of my friends could not find jobs in Toronto and have moved back to there home countries or at least went there for extended vacation. Other friends had babies, bought houses and moved to suburbs. First Friday in Toronto I spent sitting at home trying to figure out what to do. After spending two years in France, England and Ukraine being double and triple booked every Friday, getting used to going out every night and coming home no earlier than 11 p.m. on a regular basis, it is very hard coming back to Toronto only to realize that there is no company to hangout with. Coming back to Toronto from Ukraine and suddenly realizing that you can’t afford many things you used to take for granted there. Taking a taxi every time you felt like is out of question. Wondering into ‘that new bar down the street for a cocktail’ is also quite expensive.

Can’t say anything about work. We all got collectively sworn to secrecy the first week of being here. It is all right and I am getting paid. But I can’t take any time off till Xmas, and even than I am getting only 8 (eight!!!) days. The answer to my old question, why normal Americans don’t travel – they work. How can you travel when you only get 10 days off a year???!!! Why can’t we have 30 – 45 days like Europeans do? And then we all out here get all surprised why Germans and French are the most traveled nations? Well, we could travel too if we get there vacations. In any case, with two, hopefully, weddings coming up next year – I can’t even take a day off to go to Ottawa or NY for weekend. No matter how much I like this job; I don’t know how long I can handle not being able to do anything I like outside of it. Being at work 8 to 6 every day leaves very little time for personal life.

So, on this rather depressed note, I am leaving work to do laundry and cook. Welcome to Toronto: city of homeless, fat squirrels, and overworked stressed people.


posted by Lidia at 3:06 PM