Yep, this evening I saw my very first opera live… Allow me to explain…
Evan Hein leaves on Sunday, and we wanted to go to the Opera House in L’viv before he left. This evening appeared to be the only time we could, so we finished up passing out CBC invites in today’s village, headed to our respective apartments to change clothes, and met down at the Opera House in Center.
Ended up being the first opera written in the Ukrainian language, so it is special to the Ukrainian people. It was interesting. Had a lot of the Cossack style outfits and even ended with a Ukrainian wedding! It was an interesting look into Ukrainian culture. We might be going back next week for a symphony of types, we’ll have to see
. The Opera House here is one of the best buildings in Europe!
Met a lot of English-speaking people there, too! We were waiting to go in when I saw a few people taking pictures of themselves and I realize they were speaking in English. I smiled to myself and thought ‘Tourists!’
Shortly after that, one of them turned to me and started to ask me in Ukrainian to take a picture of their whole group!
I interrupted half-way through and said I spoke English. I took the pic and then talked with them for a few minutes. They were from Chicago and Philly. I thought it was great that I blended in well enough to be spoken to first in Ukrainian
. My group (Nathan, Evan, Daniel, and I) went inside and found our seats (due to a smaller audience,we ended up with better seats then we paid for! Yesss!)
After the first act was finished, a couple came in speaking ain English and sat right next to us. It was great! Found out they were from Alberta, Canada. I talked more with them, and we exchanged the normal info – How long have you been here, Where have you been, do you speak any Ukrainian, etc. It was neat running into both groups of English speakers. The husband even gave us some background on the opera (We thought we were going to be at a different one, so we knew little about the one we were watching). The lights turned down and the second act started…
During the break between the second and final act, the couple went downstairs to get something while we stayed in our seats (after a day of walking, it was preferred
). The couple a few steps down also stepped out. I had heard a little of their conversation and thought something was different about it. Then, right before the walked by, I heard the girl say something in English (along the lines of ‘Do you want to talk to them?). Aha! Another English speaking group! They walked in front of us (we had to stand as it was like theatre seats…), and the girl said ‘Dyakooyou’ (Ukrainian for ‘Thank You’). I replied ‘Proshoe’ (Ukrainian for ‘You’re welcome), then under my breath (loud enough to be heard) I said ‘You’re Welcome.’ She turned and smiled like she just got caught. It was kinda funny. After both couples returned we all talked for a while. The first couple was married and were going to Kiev the next night and the last couple ended up being cousins. The girl was from Boston and the guy lived in Ukraine. She was taking language lessons for the summer. She was American and her cousin was Ukrainian. We all had a nice chat about a variety of topics. It was funny that I met more native English speakers this evening then the entire previous 6 months combined!
On the way home on the bus, I was standing in the back, when all of a sudden one of the passengers falls out of his seat on the floor. Turns out the guy was way past drunk. No one on the bus was even phased though… Shows how much of a problem alcohol is here…
We’ll be celebrating Independence Day out at the Beals on the 3rd (We should be heading to the mountains on the 4th). Hope y’all have a great 4th and remember why it’s called Independence Day!

Until about 40 years ago, Memorial Day was observed–not celebrated–on May 30 every year. Eager Cub Scouts would work their way through the crowds at small town parades selling bright red artificial poppies. In reviewing stands, graying veterans would salute or place their hands over their hearts as high school bands marched by. Often a young girl would be called upon to read the World War I era poem “In Flanders Fields” that describes the poppies blowing row upon row among the graves of fallen warriors of the Great War. 











