Bloody footprints

Yesterday on my way to work I was taken aback to see a trail of blood on the sidewalk. It looked as if someone had been walking along, dripping blood at regular intervals, or perhaps walking with a bleeding foot. It went on for a few hundred yards. The other teachers who walk that route were all talking and speculating about the bloodstains.

No blood this morning--the rain last night washed it away.

This city has a reputation for violence, though I've been fortunate to see it only second-hand. The violence is associated with drinking. On national holidays, it's apparently a tradition for some men to start drinking the preceding afternoon, drink all day long on the holiday, and then beat each other up. On every morning that follows a holiday, as I walk to work, I see men with black eyes, bruises, or dried blood on their faces.

My friend Michael, who is married to a Ukrainian woman, said "and have you noticed how many men have scars on their faces? either from falling down drunk or getting into fights drunk." Another friend had to wear a band-aid on her lip for a couple of days. 'Now I could pass for a local, I've got that "life is hard" look,' she said.

Food isn't that cheap here, but alcohol and cigarettes cost pennies.