Monday, July 14, 2008

A Different Kind of Journey

As far back as I can remember, my family has been the traveling sort. We love going on vacations to Colorado, Wyoming, Arizona, North Dakota, etc. I also remember that when I was small my Dad would make mission trips overseas. He started out in Riga, Latvia and soon moved to Kiev, Ukraine.

When I was in seventh grade, I was lucky enough to be able to join my Dad, my Mom, and my sister on a trip there. We went in November of that year and stayed for a month. It was cold and snowy the whole time we were there and I remember trudging through the snow to get to church services on Sundays.

That trip became the first of many I was able to make with my family. I went for a month from my seventh grade year to my senior year. My senior year trip is a special memory because my Dad and I went by ourselves. After I graduated from High School, my Mom and Dad moved me to college and they moved overseas for a year. I was able to go again with my sis, sis-in-law, and nephew during Christmas time of my freshman year of college. The last time I was able to go was during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years. I was able to stay for two months at that time.

I remember our flat like it was yesterday. The first few trips we stayed in one on the fourth floor, but I remember the second flat better. It was on the sixth floor of an apartment building a few doors down from the first one we stayed at and the hallways always seemed to smell of borscht. We could look out our balcony window across the street Rusonifskiya to the Dnieper River. On her opposite bank we could see the Silver Lady, a silver statue of a woman with a sword raised in one hand and a shield in the other.

I also can almost smell the bread. The Ukrainians sure knew their way around flour and yeast. That bread had to be some of the best bread I have ever eaten. There was a little window in a building down the street that we could buy bread out of. If we got there at just the right time, it was still warm. Mom would send my sis and I to go buy bread and we would always buy an extra loaf to eat on the way home. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. The people who would sell the bread would hand it to us uncovered. We had to bring our own bags. If we bought the bread in the bazaar, it would just be sitting out on the table, completely exposed to the elements and the flies. We never did get sick and we eventually got used to the way things were done.

I loved our family trips overseas and I cherish the memories we made. I have been itching to go somewhere for a while. I've never been an amusement park type of person, but I would love to go to Sea World. I figure I'll start my dream small and maybe we can work our way up to our real dream of going to Venice, Italy.

Until Next Time Blogger Buddies.

1 comment:

Chelley N said...

Remember when we were sent to go buy eggs and broke half of them on the way home? Good times...