The year was 1992, less than a year after the fall of the Soviet Union. I was a college student on Semester at Sea, a program that took students around the world stopping in 11 different countries along the way.

One of the stops was Odessa, Ukraine and it would be our longest stay at 8 days. I didn’t know what to expect but the pre-port briefings (designed to keep us safe) were a bit scary.

“This is an unstable political climate. Don’t let people overhear you speaking English. Don’t call attention to yourselves. Stay away from crowds.”

We American students had the option to sign-up for a guided, organized experience and that is what most people did. These tours were expensive so I decided to go it alone. I prefer the spontaneity of solo travel as it tends to give me a more authentic experience of a culture and its people.

So there I was, climbing the famous steps of Odessa, Ukraine by myself on a gray, chilly autumn day: no plan, no friends there, no ability to speak the language.

This was pre-internet so my access to current information was limited. I didn’t have  have an exact destination in mind, but my plan was to head towards the university.

The vibe on the streets felt chaotic but energized, as if anything could happen but mostly in a good way. There was a palpable sense of a civilization coming fully alive after Soviet rule.

I got to the university and sat on a bench just taking it all in. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but 2 lovely students befriended me.

Valeria and Tanya spoke some English and we spent much of the next 8 days together. They opened their homes and their hearts to me. I met their families, went to the opera with them, heard about their dreams which included coming to America someday.

Valeria’s mom kept making me one of my favorite Ukrainian dishes, these scrumptious pickled tomatoes that I couldn’t get enough of. They laughed at how eagerly I ate them and I think they enjoyed my appreciation almost as much as I enjoyed eating them.

Embodied Connection

One of my most vivid memories was the night we went to a dance club. Dance clubs are the same the world over, and it was loud, crowded and energized.

At one point a song came on that had a particular dance with it that many people seemed to know. About 1/3 of the people jumped up to do this choreographed dance (perhaps a Ukrainian folk dance?) while the rest watched and clapped.

I love to dance and I was trying to figure out the steps as I was watching. One of the performing dancers saw me and pulled me up into the performance. I had no idea what I was doing, but I stumbled and fumbled through it with the encouragement of those around me.

It was probably comical to watch, they were going left and I went right, but I persevered and by the very last piece of the music I nailed it. I got each kick and step in line with theirs, all of us moving as one.

Joining with all these other beautiful young people, moving to music I had never heard before and with lyrics I couldn’t understand, enjoying each other and the evening and our freedom filled me with something immensely satisfying that I couldn’t quite name.

When the dance finished, the young woman who had pulled me up from the crowd had an ecstatic smile on her face. She threw her arms open wide and embraced me in one of the fiercest hugs I’ve ever received.

We didn’t speak a word of each other’s language but as we clung to each other in the roar of the nightclub, complete strangers from opposite sides of the world, it felt like something profound had happened. We had communicated through the ancient ritual of dance and the universal language of the heart and body. In that moment it felt like one heart was beating.

We had come together for a few precious minutes of this lifetime to celebrate being alive, embodying hope, new beginnings and the promise that self-determination holds.

We created beauty and shared joy together.

I was willing to stumble and look silly in the service of experiencing what brings another culture together. In retrospect, these are not small things.

I never saw that woman again but the moment seared itself into my consciousness.

Active Hope

Now I imagine Tanya, Valeria, and my dance buddy just trying to live their lives, feed their families, pet their cats, enjoy a stroll when the sun peeks through the gray clouds.

They are waking up to a reality where bombs can drop on them at any minute; a new life where they have been dragged back in time, losing everything in the blink of an eye.

They are pawns in a game played by a madman.

As the world seems to fill with injustices, I refuse to stop imagining a better way.

• What if we as a global community resoundingly and unanimously rejected the lies and war games?
• What if we decided to only allow women to rule for the next 1000 years?
• What if, instead of spending money on tanks and bombs, we spent it on the health of human bodies and of the planet?
• What if we prioritized sitting down to eat tomatoes together and learning each other’s dances?
• What if instead of teaching our kids to compete and consume we taught them to cooperate and be compassionate?
• What if the mentally deranged got the help they needed rather than leading nations?

It starts with a dream. Will you join me?

In honor of all Ukrainians and with prayers for peace,

Erin

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