Tell don’t show

June 28. Uzhhorod-Budapest-London

…First, there was this elderly woman at the airport in London who looked at me with attention and then guessed I was from Kazakhstan. She was from Mongolia. Each time we saw each other through the trip, we smiled and nodded. We took the same bus to the Budapest city centre, but she left earlier.
 
Then there was that taxi driver in Uzhhorod, first confused with my english, then my russian like many Ukrainians are, but then still curious about me and Kazakhstan. It was so sad to say that not everyone in my country supports Ukraine, and our president is trying to sit on both seats. He was just curious, and I was so profoundly ashamed. He recommended some local food that sounded like goulash. I said that Zakarpattian wines are the best.
 
On the train from the Ukrainian border to Budapest was this absolutely charming woman whose father was Kyrghyz (or Qazaq; my Ukrainian is not very good). Her father came to Western Ukraine after his studies and stayed forever. He had four children, two boys and two girls (just like in my family), and she is the youngest (just like me). Her Kyrghyz (or Qazaq) uncle found her through 'Zhdi menya', a TV show for people looking for relatives and old friends. "But how were you sure that was you who he was looking for?' - I couldn't believe the story. "Believe me, I'm the only Ismailova in Zakarpattia!" - she laughed (I changed her name in case she's literally the only one). Unfortunately, this reconnection happened when her father had already passed. Her uncle came to Kyiv and told her about his father (her grandfather), who was very upset, and his son didn't come to say goodbye when he was dying. The uncle was sad, too. But now, seeing his brother's children, he felt better. Everyone cried. I hope they filled the gaps in their relationship with those tears.
 
I loved this such an unexpected story gifted to me by karma or whatever rules our destinies. Out of all the couches, she entered mine, the only Ukrainian-Kyrghyz in Zakarpattia, to share this story with me and leave again forever. The story lets me see how we are connected more than we think. And it's even more painful to think about the war that divides families, wives from husbands, sons from mothers, lovers from lovers. When we arrived, I saw her husband, who was waiting for her and their two daughters on the platform. They kissed. So many men were greeting their families on that platform. So many people kissed. It was such a heartwarming and heartbreaking moment at the same time.
 
I feel like all the people I met on my way were my guardian angels, who protected me from all the bad things. All the glances we exchanged while queuing or in the rearview mirror, all the stories we shared, and all the energy we spent just to get to know each other a little bit better made me feel so welcome and cared for.
 
P.S. I'm writing this note on the plane and can't stop the tears that I've been holding back all the way through, and I'm finally letting everything go now.
P.P.S. And this stunning sunset over Budapest made me feel so alive.

❤12

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178 viewsJun 29 at 17:27

June 28. Uzhhorod-Budapest-London

…First, there was this elderly woman at the airport in London who looked at me with attention and then guessed I was from Kazakhstan. She was from Mongolia. Each time we saw each other through the trip, we smiled and nodded. We took the same bus to the Budapest city centre, but she left earlier.
 
Then there was that taxi driver in Uzhhorod, first confused with my english, then my russian like many Ukrainians are, but then still curious about me and Kazakhstan. It was so sad to say that not everyone in my country supports Ukraine, and our president is trying to sit on both seats. He was just curious, and I was so profoundly ashamed. He recommended some local food that sounded like goulash. I said that Zakarpattian wines are the best.
 
On the train from the Ukrainian border to Budapest was this absolutely charming woman whose father was Kyrghyz (or Qazaq; my Ukrainian is not very good). Her father came to Western Ukraine after his studies and stayed forever. He had four children, two boys and two girls (just like in my family), and she is the youngest (just like me). Her Kyrghyz (or Qazaq) uncle found her through 'Zhdi menya', a TV show for people looking for relatives and old friends. "But how were you sure that was you who he was looking for?' - I couldn't believe the story. "Believe me, I'm the only Ismailova in Zakarpattia!" - she laughed (I changed her name in case she's literally the only one). Unfortunately, this reconnection happened when her father had already passed. Her uncle came to Kyiv and told her about his father (her grandfather), who was very upset, and his son didn't come to say goodbye when he was dying. The uncle was sad, too. But now, seeing his brother's children, he felt better. Everyone cried. I hope they filled the gaps in their relationship with those tears.
 
I loved this such an unexpected story gifted to me by karma or whatever rules our destinies. Out of all the couches, she entered mine, the only Ukrainian-Kyrghyz in Zakarpattia, to share this story with me and leave again forever. The story lets me see how we are connected more than we think. And it's even more painful to think about the war that divides families, wives from husbands, sons from mothers, lovers from lovers. When we arrived, I saw her husband, who was waiting for her and their two daughters on the platform. They kissed. So many men were greeting their families on that platform. So many people kissed. It was such a heartwarming and heartbreaking moment at the same time.
 
I feel like all the people I met on my way were my guardian angels, who protected me from all the bad things. All the glances we exchanged while queuing or in the rearview mirror, all the stories we shared, and all the energy we spent just to get to know each other a little bit better made me feel so welcome and cared for.
 
P.S. I'm writing this note on the plane and can't stop the tears that I've been holding back all the way through, and I'm finally letting everything go now.
P.P.S. And this stunning sunset over Budapest made me feel so alive.

BY Tell don’t show