Zaporozhye

Things you should know about Zaporozhye:

1. The famous ZAZ (Zaporozhye Auto Zavod) factory was recently closed, so no tours unless you come bearing contract potential.

   

   the famous "Zaporozhets"- about the size of a classic mini

2. The main drag, Prospekt Lenina, is Europe's longest boulevard at 17 K start to finish.
3. Sotsgorod, the idealized socialist community built by the Metallurgy factory in the early 30s (with  street names like "Entusiastov" because workers were supposed to be so thrilled to go to work at the plant each day) is mostly gone, and, given the length of Prospekt Lenina, we never wandered down to look for its remains.
   
4. The Zaporozhyan Sich (fortress) on Khortitsa island was just okay. It was freezing and grey and most of the Cossacks were in hiding from the cold. Thus, no manly displays of athleticism for us...though there were good poppyseed bliny to be had in the cafe. 

   

   Welcome to the Zaporozhyan Sich

   

   Jason at the entrance

   

   View from Inside- the church in the background is consecrated and functioning.

   
   

   

   I pressed my own copper coin by beating on it with a mallet

   
   

   

   We found a Cossack! 

5. The conference was about as organized as one would expect. Jason would show up at meetings only to discover that they'd been cancelled or moved or moved and then cancelled. 

   

   A fine example of Soviet construction at the University

   

   Jason looks thrilled.

6. We did, however, get the honor of staying in a dorm. It wasn't a "Euro-remont" (modernized) dorm, either. It was the a la soviet single toilet shared by us and four other rooms plus a single shower I am hereby blotting from my memory. We did, however, have 2 single beds, a tv, a dorm fridge, and a tea kettle. Everything smelled of kielbasa and catsup. The disturbing amounts of dust, grime and stains-with-no-name will linger until I am able to scrub my eyeballs with German efficiency in a few days. Our immediate neighbors included a Bulgarian exchange student and a...well, let me just say Jason and I were brushing our teeth (at one of the communal sinks) at about 8 o'clock on the first night, when what should occur? what is the worst thing you can imagine a dorm neighbor doing? (well, okay, that kind of runs the gamut...) He started playing electric guitar. But not headbanging rock n roll. Lounge music like "Besa Me". Turns out he was an old fart in his 60s. I got the additional honor of seeing him in his briefs. yay, me. He serenaded us nightly. 

   

   In case things go terribly wrong at the dorm, there were instruction for how to make your own gas mask...

   

   Communal Hall give us the warm fuzzies

   

   Communal Sinks

   

   Someone kindly left air freshener for communal use

   

   I didn't quite capture the hair and mildew everywhere, the broken tiles, and the hole in the wall...

   

   Bedroom- our sheets were numbered with major marker...in the middle of the sheet. 
7. The conference was mainly for Journalism students and all the Fulbrighters were Political Scientists except for one guy who is a PhD candidate in Journalism... AND grew up speaking Ukrainian (whaaa? actually, I talked to him one evening at the obligatory dinner-fueled-by-vodka-toasts. he had an interesting family history). In any case, we got this amazing anecdote out of an ethics class he is teaching to journalism students in Kiev. He asked the students what they would do if a company came to them and offered them money to write nice articles about their company and a degree of exclusivity in the advertising. All the students said they would take the money because (...wait for it) companies/firms/business always has the best interest of people in mind. When he gave them the same scenario, but changed business to government, they bristled, talking about the corruption of the government and saying they were on the take. The thing to consider is just how bad the government has to be before you start thinking that business is good and fair and has your best interest at heart. We were all left slack-jawed. 



Part of the Conference group- the ones that braved the weather to see the Sich

8. The train to-and-fro was about four and half hours of smokers, babushkas, and Ukrainian rap longer than Jason could take on a grimy, retro-fitted Soviet train. I wanted to burn my clothes after we got there, but had the return trip to consider... 

   

   A comfortable ride on the train