My continuing Ukrainian Adventure... Trip 2

[Anotherkiwi]

...Olga warned me the toilet may not be sanitary. I thought I understood her meaning; to me it wouldn't be a big deal. I've used toilets in many countries on several continents, being a world traveler and all. It turned out to be quite clean, but it was quite a surprise, which explained her comment not to drop anything. For one not accustomed to this “cultural experience”, I was less worried about dropping something than I was about trying not to fall over. An equally great achievement was trying to keep my pants dry. Reading a newspaper while “relaxing” would have been impossible for me. And no, I didn't drop anything or fall over...

...5050 5051 Olga must think I'm completely off, wanting photos of a toilet, or that I've put so much effort writing about it. I'd have to agree...

What's that quote?  "I feel your pain?"  First time I saw one of these was at a wayside halt in the middle of nowhere east of Kazan - my immediate reaction was "uh oh!"  Added to the fact that the "door" was about a metre high, and couldn't be closed anyway, I decided to try to hold everything in check until the end of the ride (another 2 1/2 hours), figuring that my apartment would surely have an "ordinary" toilet.  I made it with what seemed like ten seconds to spare!
 
Unfortunately the public plumbing eventually got its revenge, and I had to use one for an "extended visit"  .  Even now, two trips and several of these later, I still have no idea of the "standard" method of use, but at least I also have managed to keep my pants dry!
 
Advice to newbies: if you don't know what to do in this situation, try to train your body to restrict that particular exercise to early morning or evening, when you should be in your apartment, hotel room or a restaurant with Western-style facilities!
 
Keep the story coming mobob - there is obviously a lot more!

[mobob]

And to think I used to be a boy scout. I did bring tp on my trip. However, it was sitting in the apartment, far from where I needed it. Fortunately a 'few' sheets came with the purchase of facility use, but more importantly, my traveling companion was properly prepared.
 
After a modest consumption of personally importated Ukrainian vodka, I was somehow involved in a great discussion of this very situation last month. The lecturer, also tasting and approving of my importation, proceeded to instruct me on the proper way to approach the maneuver. Thankfully, he did not demonstrate, theory discussion only. However, since I was modestly mellow at the time, I don't remember his instructions, other than he'd had great experience of them in Turkey and a few other interesting places. And for some reason, he asked me a most interesting question, had I kept my pants dry?
 
So, next time around I'll be packing a few zip seal bags with appropriate supplies for day trips. Hmmm... it will be like boy scouts again, on bivouac. This time, though, I've got a gps!

[mobob]

And the answer is: squat flat footed. That instruction came about after, you guessed it, more vodka!    However, I'm of the mindset of the Kiwi variety, I'll just hold it as long as I can.

[mobob]

TR2 – Day 7, Thursday, 21 April

A slow day; no running around. Olga went out early to get milk. I'd noticed last trip that the milk was in a large glass bottle. I might have inquired about it then, but don't remember, so I ask. Here's the deal: it's raw. It is cold, but still cow direct. Her explanation being that it's better than the processed stuff. Having suffered no ill effects and enjoying it, I agree. After a simple breakfast, a little work for me on the computer. I need to touch base with family and friends, work on photos from Kyiv and write a few notes. Alex heads to school, Olga washes laundry.


For lunch we have the remaining borscht from dinner. Seems to me it's even better the next day. I'm still heavy on the sour cream, I've probably eaten a pint of it myself. Alex's friends Vlad and Nikita show up. I remember their faces and names, but not which face with which name. I blame it on age. They laugh and remind me. Alex reviews the board game with them. The discussion turns to music. We take turns sampling music from each others phones. Although Alex knows a little of what I like, Vlad and Nikita seem a little surprised an old guy like me likes Techno, House and trance music. I will admit I can't dance to it, but I do like the beat. More confession, I listen to at least three podcasts a week. Actually, though, I do dance to the music, but I've been restricted to only in my house, with no witnesses.


We skipped dinner, but I seem to recall we had tea and finished the Kyiv cake. I was a gentleman and split the last piece. To make up for my chivalry, I scraped the container for crumbs. If I could have gotten away with it I would have licked it. It was delicious.


Since Easter is this weekend, Olga made Easter cakes. A great amount of work and tradition went into the process. The handwritten recipe is from her late mother; the baking pans were passed down to her as well. I think from her grandmother. I was allowed to watch only. No participation in preparation. Missed my chance to get photos of her finished work, so I snuck a photo in one of the local stores. There's a great amount of work to produce these cakes, much more than I can describe. Traditions, too, I think. I'm pretty sure customs wouldn't allow me to bring the cake into the country, so I ate the one she gave me Easter morning in Amsterdam. Tasty, of course. And... I am not a fruit lover, hence my hesitation at the apricots and raisins in the mix. Not to worry; this time I DID lick the container to get every crumb.


Later on we had a snack of fish and beer, then pryinicki – a sweet muffin, and tea a bit after that. And that made the day.
 
-30-



5002 Alex, Nikita and Vlad
 
5004, 5008  Cake from Kyiv
 
5031, 5038, 5062  Easter cake

[JR]

Cool Dude....very kewl

[Muzh]

That Kyiv cake is great, isn't it? Yum Yum

[mobob]

So, like... I'm guessing I'll finish this trip report after I get back the current trip. Sorry for the delay. Ah... Se la vi!

[Ronnie]

So, like... I'm guessing I'll finish this trip report after I get back the current trip. Sorry for the delay. Ah... Se la vi!

   John, congratulations on Americanizing the French expression "c'est la vie!"  However, I would have preferred, "say la vee........y'all" 

[mobob]

Well... sorry about the spelling. After having been a journalist so long ago, I should have known to check it. But, such is life.      Or... if I was with my Danish friends, I would say "such is Leif!", pronounced "life", but Leif is a story for another day.
 
Poka... y'all 

[mobob]

So... I'm back, and have been for a while. Somtimes, well, you know, it takes longer than you think. The tornados are but distant memories... but now we're contending with almost weekly earthquakes. Not fun, at least for me. I've got Day 8,9 and 10 finshed, mostly. My net connection is giving me fits right now, so we'll see if I can get anything uploaded. If not, I'll try again in a few days.

[calmissile]

Don't forget to add the part about Olga watching you in real time during the earthquake, and her reaction...... funny

[mobob]

 TR2 – Day 8, Friday, 22 April

 
Breakfast is tea for me, coffee for her, cookies for both. We mosey to the bus stop. It shows up as expected and we ride to Volnovaha. Hey, I'm recognizing these places now. A few more trips and I might not get hopelessly lost. Yeah, right.

 
We find our way to the RAGS office. Olga checks in and speaks with the registrar. Our papers are scrutinized and appear to be in order. Olga then writes a letter, slides it to me and says 'sign'. Trusting her, of course, I sign, having no idea what I've just agreed to. Outside as we head to the bank, Olga smiles and asks if I'm interested in what I just signed. Da... It is a letter requesting an extension to the waiting period for marriage since our planned wedding day is in September.  On the short walk to the bank, she shows me the paper with the fee. I see 85 written on it; I'm thinking 85 grivna, not so bad. Net! The 85 was correct, but it is .85 grivna, as in 85 kopecki! I get out the iphone, still in idiot mode, and the handy dandy calculator app. At 8 grivna to the dollar, that's $.10625, just under eleven cents. Wow! That's an encouragement to get married. The bank only takes a few minutes and we're heading back to RAGS. The receipt for paying the .85 grivna was 2.25 grivna. Total administrative cost was $.3875. Interesting. Back at RAGS we turn in the paper and we're done until September.

 
On to the Ukrainian national past time again, we go walking... to market. It's an interesting mix of vendors with a little of everything. I sneak a couple of pictures, not wanting to stand out too much as a tourist.

 
Final mission for the trip is souvenirs. We walk around about an hour, winding our way through the little booths and shops. I pick up a few souvenirs, some wooden carved and painted Easter eggs.  a teapot with an inscription to the effect of 'a warm and friendly house'. And chocolate, about four kilograms of it. My memory serves me pretty well at the counter. I point out to Olga which ones I want. She tells the clerk, and at my request she has the clerk put more in the bag. And then another bag. And another. We end up with four or five bags of individually wrapped chocolates.  Later back in her village I get more chocolate, but only solid bars.

 
Back at the bus stop it appears we're between runs and it's going to be a wait. We grab a taxi and head back. On the way I decide to be a little touristy and ask to stop for a photo of the city sign for Volnovaha. The taxi driver doesn't seem to mind too much, at least I don't think so. He didn't shake his head or laugh as he pulled over for me.


 
A few minutes later we're back in town. More shopping, but this time for necessities – dinner. We grab a few things and head up the hill to the flat. Still those five flights of stairs. A week isn't enough time to get conditioned for that. I'm in reasonably good condition, I think, but Olga beats me to the top every time.

 
We went back out before dinner to finish the souvenir buying – the a fore mentioned chocolate bars and a 'few' bottles of vodka, which quickly became four half liter bottles and a handful of the mini bar sized bottles.

 At these prices I really wanted to get more, but didn't think I could carry it all. And I was a bit concerned US Customs might not understand it was only for personal use. Since I didn't want to stop being a bad influence on my friends back home, I got a pack of cigarettes for my really good buddy to go with the lighters I got him in Kyiv. After a bit of searching, the clerk finds a couple of packs that aren't American imports.
 
The remainder of the evening was preparation for my trip back. Packing nine bottles of vodka, chocolate and the other gifts, and my stuff into a bag that fits in the overhead compartment in an airplane is not easy. I'm a bit worried about the vodka making the trip. Olga saves the day by handing me a stack of bubble wrap she'd saved from packages I'd sent. Yea! After wrapping and taping, and then wrapping in my clothes, and then rearranging 'several' times, somehow it all fits. Suitcase and backpack are packed, zipped and ready.

 
Dinner, tv, sleep.

 
-30-

5052, 5053        At the market

5055                  Sign to the city, Volnovaha

5061, 5063        Vodka!

[mobob]

 TR 2   23 April, Day 9

 
Up early, nervous I'll miss the bus, miss the plane, et cetera. We eat and then  hang out until it's time to leave. As like the last trip, Olga prepares a lunch for me. Kielbasa, cheese and bread. And one of the Easter cakes. Much better fare than what I'd find in the airport. Better price, too.

 
Last minute details preparations, lunch goes into my backpack, final search to ensure I haven't left anything. I cram the last items into my suitcase and secure it with duct tape to make sure it holds together, and to make it easier to locate on the baggage carousel. No longer needed, I toss the roll to Alex, a somewhat strange parting gift.


Finally it's time to head out. Last night wasn't so bad, but now my bags seem a little on the heavy side. The bus ride to Donetsk is uneventful, other than it's a royal pain finding a place for my suitcase during the ride, and dragging  it everywhere, even with the 'convenience' of wheels.

 
At the airport we sit at the same place we did last fall, next to the departure door. Something just doesn't seem right. I call David, only a little freaked out. I don't see the immigration desk anywhere to get my passport stamped. Nor do I see my flight on any of the departure signs. We chat a bit, and he tells me to wait, Irina is on the way, she'll show me where to go. She arrives. And brought me an Easter cake. Yes, I'll be eating very well.

 
International departures are upstairs. Doh! We climb the stairs and find seats. Olga and Irina chat during the wait.

 
I get a false start when I see my flight number and I jump up. It's only queuing up. Whew. Finally it's time. We say our goodbyes, a hug and kiss to Olga, and I'm through the first security point. At the ticket counter I can see back through the doorway. We wave and blow kisses. I get my boarding pass and walk on to screening. Bags on the conveyer, I look back for a final wave, then through. I turn again, but can't see through the doorway. Onward. I add my bag to the pile to have it wrapped, pay the 30 grivna and walk on to...

 
Immigration. Passport stamped and to the final waiting area. Yes, I was very concerned I'd get it stamped. I've heard horror stories of people being denied entry to a country, or worse, when a departure stamp was missing.

 
There's a small duty free shop and bar. I get a couple of bottles of water and head back to wait for my plane. Shortly it's time to move out. Through a nondescript door, down and around a flight of stairs, outside to the bus. Traveling is much easier with only the backpack. I am concerned about my suitcase with all the glass, but can only hope for the best.

 
A last look at Ukraine through the window. There's absolutely no chance I'd see anything I recognize, but I still look. Somewhere out there is Olga...

 
Three hours later we're touching down in Munchen. I visit a kiosk to get more chocolate. I arrived in Ukraine with five, but only left with one. It's a good excuse.

 
I find my way to the gate, another wait, and a pleasant flight to Amsterdam. Like last time, immigration and customs is easy, nothing to declare. Except, of course, that even though here last fall, I am a little lost. Only had to ask directions twice.

 
Shameless commercial plug. Yotel, the in-airport hotel, is terrific. I get the same room as last time. Small things, yes, but it's nice to be in somewhat familiar territory. I channel surf the tv, eat dinner and the cake Irina gave me, then crash.

 
-30-

5065               Lunch

5064               A strange gift

5071               Chat while waiting

[mobob]

 TR2 24 April, Day 10

 
Up at the crack of 9 am or so. It's Easter. I eat breakfast and the cake Olga made. As I said somewhere earlier, I'm not big on fruit, but the cake is awesome. After inhaling it, the bag gets emptied of all crumbs. I'm full, no need to buy anything to eat.

 
And no need to ask directions. Guess I was a little tired last night. No problems finding my way to the gate. I arrive early, so there's about an hour or so wait.

 
As usual, it's a long flight. I ate airline food, which wasn't too bad, slept, listened to music. Port of entry was Dulles Airport, Washington D.C., in the middle of the airfield, in the middle of nowhere. It's all a breeze. A glance at my passport, turned in my customs declaration, no inspection. Cool. Connecting gate is at another terminal, of course. Seemingly miles away, but really only a 20 minute walk and ride on people conveyors, I arrive in plenty of time.

 
Meanwhile, my phone's blowing up. Text messages and voicemails. Update text messages for my flights. Yep, everything is on schedule. I return the calls I can. But... my planned ride is not answering the phone. Uh... Neither is the back up driver. Uh...

 
A call to the rescue driver for the trip out, my son. We make arrangements for him to get me if the scheduled driver can't make it. Board the last flight.

 
And when I get to Oklahoma City, no one's answering their phone, neither the scheduled ride or the backup. Hmph. I give it about half an hour, then try again. Nope. So... 'hey, son, can you come get me?'

 
He does. With his mother. Awkward. Only a little. Yeah, right. She knows the purpose of my trip, and only mentions it briefly. Really awkward. I make a peace offering of vodka, but told tequila is preferred. I agree to the deal, and insist on stopping for gas, being the least I could do. Ouch! Gas went up a bit while I was gone. About twenty cents per gallon. Still, it's a small price for door to door service. A taxi would have been much worse.

 
The suitcase survived fine with everything intact. It did have a TSA sticker on it, though. There was some molestation, but all bottles were ok. I'm guessing the concern was the weight and the sloshing. The other gifts arrived safely as well, only a few chocolates were squished. My priorities are in the right order.

 
Home.

 

-30-

[mobob]

I'm working on the epilogue and TR3.

[calmissile]

Nice TR John,
Can't wait for TR3

[Hammer2722]