Larkspur, Colorado. June, 2002.  

It's hot. It's so hot that forest fires will rule this summer, threatening our festival. But so far, no smoke on the horizon. Middle aged hippies gather guitars, dulcimers, a bass, fiddles. One guy bangs pots on his head.  

We make room - a squat old woman pulls up a huge wooden instrument. She wears wool and linen, looking Slavic and strong. She strains to set that thing on her lap. 67 strings, and enough wood for a treasure chest.  

It's a bandura. Bandura.  

The folklorist in me was roused. Childhood dreams of digging up pyramids and finding sunken ships.....Oksana was my target. I circled - yes, she does speak English!   Yes - she'll teach me her music -- Opa!  

(music)

Two facts. The only two facts about my family in Ukraine.

1) All of my great-grandparents (father's side) left farming there to farm here.  

2) They came from Melatchna, where someone was or was not the mayor. Melatchna? Not on any map I've found.   Ukraine? Well, I can find Ukraine, right between Poland and Russia. As a post-Soviet capitalist democracy, it's about as successful as a rainforest in Arizona. Hmmm...poor country, great music, where my family once lived.................

I'm going to Eastern Europe!  

I'm thinking - babushka - head rags, black skirts, orthopedic shoes for the bread line.  

Checklist: head rag, black skirt, big black shoes. Oh, and a new violin case.  

In line for the plane - A young girl has spiky hair, flowing pants, and a quilt wrapped in plastic with a duct tape handle. The man in front of me has a smooth black jacket and a pink duffel bag with holes at the corners.  

I look like a babushka with American Tourister bags!   I run to the bathroom and change into my pj's. Might as well not try at all.  

(music)  

At the door of the castle - I mean airport - the perfect Austin Powers skinny villainess. Tailored jacket, short skirt, nylons, black skimpy heels. Gorgeous blue eyes and a sophisticated red bob. But as we walked by, she smiled and shrank away. No villainess, just a quiet girl holding a walkie-talkie.  

All over the city, it's the same...........amazing heels, slender hips, Slavic eyes. They never trip on the cobblestone, but they're terrified of men, and of me.  

(music)  

PLATZCART - Not a Tourist Car
Brown walls,
wood table,
lace curtains
soap and toilet paper luxury
Kids talking,
guy snoring,
I'm looking out the window. As we fall asleep, I go back 60 years...........

(cue)

What if we had been on the way to Babi Yar? Same train, more people
Soap is the first to go.
The attendant gets much meaner.
Beds fill up
Seats fill up
Aisles fill up
People stand up
I lost my bag, and someone just licked my shoulder.
People outside spit and laugh.

(cue)

60-year-old curtains brush my cheek,
And the attendant asks if I want tea.
Some things are better these days.  

(music)  

EXPEDITSY