Hate and Alienation: Personal Reflections
"Do you hate Russians?" — a couple of tourists from Italy asked me one day while we shared the space of a summer terrace at one of Krakow's bars. "No," I replied firmly. "Hate is too strong of a feeling that primarily destroys you, not the person it's directed at. I simply don’t want anything to do with them." With that, our short conversation ended, and we parted ways. They probably went on to explore the sights of Krakow, delve into Polish culture, and enjoy traditional dishes, while I trudged home to pack my bags to catch a train back to Ukraine in three days.
Six months have passed since that conversation. I still think that hate is about destruction. Hate has never led to anything good, but at the same time, I’ve developed a different feeling, for which I struggle to find a name.
November 2024. We are in Turkey. Over the month, we have traveled several thousand kilometers and have been to four countries where I felt more than safe, and nothing triggered my emotional swings. It seemed to me that I had finally found my long-lost zen, rekindled my love for my husband, strengthened my relationship with my child, and nothing could disrupt this personal internal idyll.
November 23. The weather has turned sour, the air is cold, and rain pours down like from a bucket. There are four large bags of dirty clothes in the camper that urgently need washing…
