Banya - A Russian Treat!

Although I haven't yet experienced the authentic banya (where you are essentially beaten with special branches by trained beaters inside the sauna), I must say I have fallen in love with the tradition of a Russian Banya.  They are like sauna's back home, getting as hot as about 100ºC, and modern ones can include a separate steam room.  They also furnish a pool with icy water to dip in between sauna sessions, and a lounge area for drinking tea, eating snacks, listening to music, and otherwise enjoying company.


You can rent these special rooms and saunas by the hour, for a select number of people, and I am excited to share this experience with a handful of my closest friends this week for my birthday.  It is a very bonding and relaxing time, and I am very grateful to experience this before I say farewell to my friends and life here in Kiev.

It's a time of cleansing and renewal, and as I face a new journey ahead of me, filled with doubts and unknowns, I can't think of anything better with which to usher in the beginning of my 29th year in this crazy adventure we call life.

As they say here after someone comes out of a banya (which I think means something like "happy steaming" or "hope you had a good steam":   

С легким паром!  (S legkim parom!)

Farwells and Fondness - Petra

Dear friends and blog-followers,

I'm writing this feeling quite a lot of mixed emotions.

Sadness, fear,
Joy, gratitude,
and a heart filled with
love...

I'm so grateful for the friendships I've made here in Kiev. 
I'm going to miss them so much. 

In the next two weeks, as I prepare to move back to America for an undetermined time, I will blog about the different feelings I experience, and the people and things that have affected me on my trip.

Today, I want to say thank you to a very special person.

Petra, my sweet-naughty roommate who knows just how to push people's buttons and make them feel loved at the same time.  I'm going to miss our Sudoku and Eli Stone times.  I'm going to miss your muffins.  I'm going to miss our honest talks–which leave me feeling either inspired, convicted, comforted, or challenged, yet always accepted.  You've allowed me to be myself, bumps (or lack thereof) and all.  You've laughed with me, cried with me, and been a mentor, a best-friend, and a true sister to me.  You've been abundantly patient, unconditionally kind, and completely authentic in our friendship.  I will never forget you, or be the same, because I knew you.  Thank you for your love, your maturity, and your friendship.  And thank God for bringing us together.  Kiev–honestly, my life–wouldn't be the same without you.

I love you very much, and look forward to the time when our paths cross again, whether that be in Kiev, Slovenia, Africa, or LA.  Wherever the Lord carries our gypsy hearts, you'll always be a part of mine.

До свидания, Моя подруга.

With all my heart,
Shaela

P.S.
Remember our 10-year agreement.

Life is a Mist...

I'm writing this in a state of some shock.

Last week, a young sister in the Kiev church (Vika), who was only about 30 years old, died from liver failure.  Just today, a brother (Stass) in the Odessa church died of pneumonia at the blossoming age of 22.

Recently experiencing some health-concerning symptoms of my own, I can't help but feel the truth of Solomon's observations in Ecclesiastes: swirling with activity one minute, dissipating in sunlight the next, our lives are a mist.

How will you live yours?