The Kyiv Kitten – Friend? Spirit Guide? Who Knows?

For as long as I remember, I’ve always had a way with animals.  I don’t know why, but for some reason animals have always picked me out of a crowd. That’s not always a good thing, either.  Just ask my wife and daughter about the particular human the monkeys in Costa Rica chose as an aiming point for their poo.  Yep, they chose me out of approximately 20 people.  My daughter said it was because my bald head gave them a shiny target. 

One of the culprits… Pretty good arm.

Regardless of why this happens, it seems that nearly every important period of my life involved some type of animal.  When Tiffany was pregnant with Téa, we lost our beloved yellow lab, Emma, to cancer.

Our girl Emma.

A few weeks later, we rescued Kimo from our neighborhood shelter because our other dog, Hula, was totally brokenhearted and needed a companion. While we call Kimo the cat-dog because he acts more like a cat than a dog, he’s been a loyal and loving companion for Hula and a kind and gentle pet for our kids.  He’s also a fierce defender of his pack.  Not bad for a cat-dog.

That’s Hula on the left and Kimo the Cat-Dog on the right.

Speaking of cats, that species played a role in everything that was happening in Kyiv last summer when we were over there having our twins. There are a lot of stray animals in Kyiv, and I’ve written already about the wild dogs. Cats are no exception, and you’ll see feral cats and kittens just about anywhere at any time.

This includes the maternity hospital where our boys were born. Feral cats are scattered about there, hiding under buildings and cars and even in trees when things get dicey from their perspective.  I noticed them right away, but didn’t really bother with them because I assumed they’d want nothing to do with me.

For the most part, I was right about that, except for one little guy who seemed to be peering at me with particular interest the first couple of times I walked in and out of the hospital. On my third walk past him, he decided to stroll out from under the car, sit down a safe distance from me and meow.  I gave him a gentle “hello” in return and put my hand near the ground for him to come and sniff.  Surprisingly, he did so, and the next thing I knew, he was rubbing my ankles and purring away.

I didn’t know what to make of that.  I wasn’t sure if I should touch him any more than I had, as he might have had fleas and I didn’t want any germs to spread to our preemie newborns.  After a few seconds, I did pet him, and he went wild. He corkscrewed himself into the ground and demanded a belly rub.  I obliged, and he grabbed my hands and instead of biting me, as most cats do in that situation, he started licking me.

Lousy photo, but I could never get the little whirling dervish to sit still.

I was hooked.  I had a new friend, and the whole time we were there I never saw another cat approach another person, including my new buddy.  I started bringing him scraps of food, and within a couple of days the little bugger would see me and come running to greet me, rubbing my legs and purring away. It was strange, but also kind of neat.

I actually appreciated his presence a few times when things were really hairy inside the hospital.  He provided an unexpected comfort when he’d let me pet him while I waited for my Uber, wondering how we were ever going to navigate our way through that insane situation.  It’s seemingly a very small detail of all that happened over there, but it’s something that’s always stuck in my mind.  Why was that cat there?  Why did he choose me as his human?  What ever happened to him?

Wherever he is, I hope he’s OK.  He was a good boy and one of the many small but memorable things that took place in Ukraine. 

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, I embarked on a journey that would change the lives of everyone I love.  Many of those lives have since changed dramatically, and two of those lives hadn’t even started 365 days ago.  At this time in August of 2017, I was somewhere in the air over Europe.  I had flown from San Diego to Houston, and I was on my way from Houston into Munich.  From there I was looking at a relatively short flight into Kyiv.  This was actually happening.

27 hours of traveling alone gives you a lot of time to think and to evaluate things.  I remember a lot of those emotions and thoughts, as I wrote many of them down.  After all, I didn’t have a lot to do and I had quite a bit of time on my hands.  I remember being excited.  Our family was having twin boys.  After years of pain and struggle, we were creating – in an unorthodox manner – siblings for our beautiful little girl, which was the biggest source of motivation for all that we went through to get our sons to the planet. 

I was nervous.  I had been to Kyiv before and knew that despite having traveled all over the globe, this was perhaps the most foreign place I had ever experienced.  I had no idea what to expect.  Would the birth go smoothly?  Would everything be OK?  How does one manage the birth of two children without the ability to read or communicate?

I was a bit harried.  We had planned on me leaving ahead of my wife to get things settled with our living arrangements and to get the legal ball rolling with the US Embassy.  The boys were coming early, even earlier than expected.  I was on the plane 2 weeks before I thought I’d be leaving, which meant that I’d be missing my daughter’s first day of kindergarten. 

That was part of the reason that, strangely, I was also filled with sadness.  I had never been away from Téa for more than a few days, but I knew that this would take at least a few weeks.  I wept like someone had died at least once on my flight over there. 

No one had died, but the little family of 3 that I had come to love so much was no more the second I jumped into my Uber at my house to head to the San Diego airport.  Yes, it was quite possible that we’d be even happier with a family of 5 instead of 3, but what we knew was what all of us loved.  It was as hard to say goodbye to that as it was to my little girl. 

I wrote down what I thought life would be like one year from that day while I was in the air.  Today is that day.  I just looked at it.  My list could not have been more wrong.  I thought that we would have the parenting of 3 kids, including twin boys, down to a science.  We do not.  We still in many ways make it up as we go along. 

I thought the amazement of having these boys and how they got here would be somewhat worn off and that I’d just be focused on raising them.  I was wrong.  Even now, not a day goes by without me reflecting on the insanity that unfolded before, during and immediately after their birth. 

I thought that having two young boys would make me feel young as well.  That’s not completely accurate.  Having twins my 40’s has made me feel young and old at the same time.  That’s a bizarre dichotomy, but one that I’m strangely used to now.

I thought the “newness” of having babies would wear off by now.  It has not.  When they learn something new – this week it was how to wave at people – that thrill of newness washes over me.  Wrong again.

Those are just a few examples of what turned out to be a list of things that proved that I had no idea what I was in for over these previous 365 days.  That’s not a bad thing, but it’s interesting because it taught me that when you’re about to embark on a life-changing event or era, your life is probably going to change in ways you never foresaw. 

What a year it’s been.  Today, I think I’ll make another list of what my life will be like one year from now.  Based on track record, I’ll expect that to be completely wrong as well.

Sidewalk Parking In Kyiv – Wherever There’s Room

There are quite a few similarities between Kyiv and other big cities around the world, but what fun is it reading about things like that?  One of my purposes here is to point out some of the unique qualities of this unique place.  These are things that I never knew existed before I got there.  Knowing about them ahead of time would have made my transition there a bit easier.  One such aspect of life in Kyiv is the public parking, such as it is.  Every single day, for different reasons, I was quietly thankful that I never had to drive there.  Parking was just one of those reasons. 

On my first trip to Kyiv, I was walking down the street, not far from my hotel, which wasn’t an accident.  I didn’t want to wind up in some random tunnel, trapped inside of an endless mall.  As I was walking that first time, along a busy street, I was trying to figure out where to go.  I wasn’t paying any attention to the traffic.  It was just traffic, no different than what you see in any city in the world, or so it seemed.  Vehicles of all sizes would whiz by, and it was all a barely noticeable din to me.

Suddenly, a car turned off the road and pulled RIGHT in front of me, stopping perpendicular to the direction in which I was walking.  What was going on here?  I was nowhere near an intersection.  Who just pulls off onto a sidewalk in the middle of traffic?  How come no one else walking nearby even gave this car a second look? 

I wasn’t sure what to expect when the driver got out of the car.  Was he looking for me?  I kept my gaze downward and just kept walking, watching out of the corner of my eye.  I was actually confused when the guy got out of the car and sauntered into a building, as if he was parking in a lot somewhere.

Just then I looked up the street and realized that there were cars all over the sidewalks on both sides of the road.  I didn’t know this until my next trip there in the summer, when the concrete wasn’t covered in snow and ice, but there are little turnoffs from the road onto the sidewalks.  As it turns out, there is such a dearth of parking in Kyiv that people at some point began pulling onto sidewalks and leaving their cars there.

Apparently, this was not legal, but no one seemed to enforce it.  I even saw a few folks waving cars onto sidewalks and taking money from the drivers before leaving their cars.  I chuckled thinking about how excited any of our parking police would be if they encountered such a scene.  It’d be a ticket-writing bonanza. 

Since we’ve come home, the government there has taken steps to deal with this.  A few months ago, the Ukrainian legislature passed a bill stating that sidewalk parkers would be ticketed.  I wonder if that’ll actually make a difference, as a lot of laws that exist there seem more like suggestions.  That’s sort of how things work in that part of the world.

The whole scenario was also just another example of how the people there take it upon themselves to find their own solutions to things.  For most of my life, when Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union, I was taught that pretty much every aspect of life was controlled by the government.  Even I could tell that this is not how things are these days in a lot of respects.  Parking on the sidewalks – something someone must have just decided to do one day and others followed – is one example of this.  As I said, it’s an interesting place.

The Wild Dogs of Kyiv – An Eerie Sight and Sound

There’s a 10-hour difference in time between Southern California and Kyiv, so both times I traveled there I went through some pretty brutal jet lag.  That meant that I was up and about – as much as I felt comfortable doing so – very early in the morning with regularity.  It was actually a nice time to look around a bit, as there was almost no one around, so I wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way or otherwise annoying people.  It was quiet and almost surreal to watch the sun come up over the old, unique buildings in Kyiv. 

One morning, after stumbling through a coffee order at a local java stand, I found myself looking at some of the buildings in hopes of memorizing them for use as landmarks during subsequent trips out.  It was just then that I heard a tremendous barking sound around the corner.  It wasn’t just a dog, but it was obviously a lot of dogs.  My initial reaction was excitement.  I have two dogs at home and I really missed them while I was gone. 

Hula and Kimo

I walked toward the noise and as I got near a viewpoint, no fewer than 10 really big dogs charged right past me and ran across the street.  They decided to skip the underground tunnel – good move. 

They continued to run and bark as if they were hunting something.  The cacophony of barking seemed to bounce off the concrete, causing a strange urban echo.  I noticed that they all looked pretty well fed and they were basically recognizable breeds.  I wasn’t sure what was happening.

As I was processing all of this, someone grabbed my arm from behind and spun me around.  It startled me to the point where I was surprised I didn’t spill my coffee.  It was a little old man who was yelling at me and pointing to my face.  I had no idea what he was talking about of course, so once again I resorted to holding my arms out and looking at him with a quizzical expression.

He figured out I had no idea what he was saying, so we moved to the amateur sign language portion of our meeting.  He pointed at the direction in which the dogs ran.  Then he made a biting motion with his teeth, followed by him pretending to bite his arm and tear away at it.  Finally, he pointed back at me and grabbed my arm.

I was a little slow on the uptake at that point, but I finally figured it out.  These were not dogs that one should approach.  They were actual wild dogs.  As I got used to being up early and walking around a bit, I saw more and more of them around town.  Instead of moving towards them, I stood still and when they got close to me they really didn’t bother me.

Catching some ZZZs

I saw a couple of them fight once, and it was one of the most barbaric things I had seen in a long time.  They were not fooling around.  Each went for the other’s throat immediately and one actually succeeded. The defeated dog skulked off bleeding profusely, probably looking for a place to die, while the victor grabbed what looked like a discarded fast food bag and took off.

I read later that there are thousands of stray dogs in Kyiv, and almost 3,000 people per year report being bitten by one in the city.  There’s a lot of controversy regarding how they should be handled.  Some believe in capturing and spaying/neutering them while others reportedly shoot them or poison them.  After that day, I knew I should not approach them, no matter how much I missed my own dogs.  This is a city of nearly 3 million people, and wild dogs roam the streets at dawn.  This is just another thing I never knew about this mysterious city before I got there.

The Underground Tunnels of Kyiv

During my initial trip to Ukraine, one of the first things I noticed that seemed at least somewhat familiar in Kyiv was the typical crosswalk sign.  It didn’t say, “WALK” like they do in the United States.  Instead it was a picture of a little green person walking – easy enough to follow. 

In those first few days there, I was happy to latch onto anything that I could understand.  I was crossing those streets like a super-pro-Kyiv-jock to be sure.  Yet there was one question that started to arise as I walked around a little bit more, never losing sight of whatever landmark I chose before heading out: Why were there no crosswalks at so many busy intersections?

When I looked around at these intersections, I saw stairs going underground.  I knew this was for the Metro, an underground railway system that wasn’t unlike the subways you see in different parts of the world.  I had read online that this is not the best or safest way to get around for foreigners who are alone, which made sense to me since I couldn’t read anything or talk to anyone anyway.  I’d just walk around and stay close to home base while I was there that first time. 

Yet, why was no one crossing these streets?  There were a lot of people around.  It didn’t make sense to me at all.  Finally, I noticed some sort of youth sports team – it was a whole group of kids with matching parkas – walk down these stairs.  I assumed they were getting on the Metro, but about a minute later, they popped up on the other side of the intersection.  Mystery solved!  The crosswalks were underground.  I could finally cross the street in Kyiv.

When I walked down the stairs, I was amazed at what I saw.  Yes, there was a Metro stop nearby, but there were also a ton of these little fruit stands – and by the way, where did the fruit come from in January? – along with little flower shops and bodegas like you’d see on the streets of New York.  What there wasn’t was any sort of walkway or indication of how to get to the other side of the street.  I thought I was going in the right direction, but these tunnels had a lot of twists and turns, and it was anything but a straight shot.

Before I knew it, I was somehow in the middle of a pretty modern mall.  OK – what was going on here?  Was there some entire underworld in Kyiv that I didn’t know about?  If so, how come no one told me about it?  I also realized at this point that I was completely and totally lost.  I walked around for quite some time, trying to look like I had a clue what I was doing.  I looked for any sign that would take me out of this strange subterranean world that was teeming with activity. 

Finally I saw it – a worn down, dingy sign with the picture of a guy going up stairs on it.  I had found my way out.  I walked up the stairs, popped my head out like some sort of prairie dog, and realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was.  Nothing looked familiar, my landmark skyscraper was nowhere in sight and I was ready to go back to my hotel room. 

I headed back down into the maze of tunnels and tried to retrace my steps.  I walked past the coffee place.  I remembered seeing the place that sold babushkas.  I remembered the drug store type-thing and finally, I saw some familiar fruit stands.  I walked up the nearest stairs to the outside and… nope.  Still no clue where I was. 

Finally, after deciding to pop my head out of every staircase that led to the surface, I saw my skyscraper.  I walked outside towards it, only to come to an intersection that required me going underground again to cross it.  Not this time – I kept walking along until I could cross above the surface until I somehow found my way back.  It took me almost 3 hours to get back to my room, and I bet I was never more than a few blocks away.

Later, I read a lot of different explanations as to why these tunnels exist.  One talked about how they were there to beat the cold, which made sense.  Another stated that they became popular during World War II, as Kyiv took a pounding during that time.  Regardless, if you’re ever in Kyiv, it is an interesting piece of the city.  Just bring a bag of popcorn so you can find your way home.

Being Illiterate... Or 'бути неписьменним' In Ukrainian - I Think

Imagine that it's your first day in a new country, as it was mine in Ukraine in January of 2016.  I had never been to Eastern Europe, let alone Ukraine or Kyiv.  Imagine that you're starting to get that sinking feeling in your gut that you really have no freaking idea how to do anything.  That's mostly because you can't read most of the signs on the streets or on the buildings, no one can understand you and you have no idea what anyone is talking about.  

You've had a long day setting yourself up as a Ukrainian business, negotiating a baby contract and doing many other things, all in Ukrainian.  It's dinnertime, and all you want to do is find somewhere near your hotel where you can eat.  You think about room service, but the only TV networks you get are showing either fruit or trains.  

You wander out into the freezing winter night, and even though you can't read the sign, the lighting makes a building seem like it's a restaurant or a pub or something that has food.  You realize when you walk in that it is a pub or something like that, and you're thrilled - you can get beer and food here.  

You sit down and grab the menu, purposely not paying attention to the fact that everyone else in the place is looking at you as an obvious misfit.  You start to look at your options for dinner and see the following:

You decide to go with the bechkne, as it's the most expensive thing (about $1.50 American) so you like your chances.  You see a guy with a huge, dark beer at a different table and point at that when the server comes.  You're not sure what's about to happen, but you don't really care anymore.

A few minutes later, out comes your dinner:

It's a wooden platter of no-batter, deep-fried pigs' ears.  That's right - pigs' ears - the 'treat' that you feed to your dogs.  Fortunately, it came with ketchup, so that masked about 2 percent of the horrifying taste but sadly none of the vomitous texture.  You choke down about 3 bites of this and decide to flush the remaining $1.39 down the toilet.  

That's what it's like walking around in a city almost totally illiterate and barely able to communicate.  You wind up with dog treats for dinner and in a strange way consider that an accomplishment.  

Starting to get the picture of how quickly one can begin to feel like a total moron?

Hello! Or "Здравствуйте" As They Say In Kyiv

Did you think you'd be able to sort of piece together what "hello" looked like in Ukrainian because the English word was right next to it?  Yeah, I figured I'd be able to figure out what words meant in Ukraine too, but that was before I got there.  This should give you an idea of just how clueless I was while I was there having twin boys.  

Welcome to my Flip Flops in Kyiv blog.  Here I'm going to write some shorter stories about different crazy/weird/funny/scary things that happened during our time over there.  Some of them you'll find in the book, in more detail of course, and others you won't.  I feel like I owe it to anyone who's thinking about this to make sure they have an inkling as to what they're in for if they do this. 

I'll be updating this section of the Web site frequently, so check back.  You never know what type of story you might find here.  I certainly never knew what each day would entail over there.  

Just your average giant snail thing on wheels that you see in Kyiv at dawn.