Where I'm At

So I meant to post this picture shortly after I moved, when the shock of my apartment was full and fresh. I pulled up on this building from the other side on the morning of my arrival, and at first I thought there must have been some mistake. Dull brick exterior, broken asphalt and curbs, dirt lorded over by two, three, four stray dogs -- I was supposed to be downtown, in the city center, where the foreign dignitaries are put up, and what's this? I tried to hide the disappointment on my face as we got out, and pushed the security code on the green steel door that gave way to the stairwell, which is bare stone with walls painted two tones of seasick green, a good institutional design.

But you know, some two weeks later, three I guess, I'm almost reluctant to leave, and I believe I will be shortly, perhaps in a week or two -- some place nearer the university and downtown. It's amazing how things can quickly become like home. The inside of the apartment's very nice, in fact: independent hot water, redesigned kitchen (think Ikea, but not high-end Ikea), and wallpaper everywhere, including the ceiling (looking up on it from my bed, a sectional fold-down sofa my chiropractor would not approve of, I sometimes feel like a gift inside a box).

Anyways, that it's for now, a glimpse into my Brezhnev-era flat. More later, like how I now apparently bristle at paying six dollars for a can opener -- thirty-three Grivnas? Who do they think I am? Rockefeller?