Mobob Trip Report, Ukraine 2010

[mobob]

The Prologue

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away... Nope...not that story... It was a dark and stormy night... Net... But getting closer.

The seed for my adventure was planted way back when, around summer or fall 2001, by one of the guys I worked with at a college. He was aware of my single status and somewhat recent messy divorce, and suggested I try a mail order bride. He knew of a family in his town whose wife and daughter had immigrated from Russia. Having ready access to the internet I gave it a look. It seemed interesting, but just wasn't for me at the time. Adventure in sleep mode.

Four year jump. Sometime around the spring 2005, at a hotel near Denver International Airport, I got the next nudge. At the time I was a bus driver for a charter company based in Oklahoma City. I was in Denver driving a church group around for a conference and a visit to Six Flags. Checking my email on a guest computer, in the inbox I saw a letter from a .ru address. Skeptical of scams, but curious, I opened it. I had visited a few dating sites here and there, free looks only, but nothing had really struck me as worthy of membership. I figured that's where she had gotten my address. I read the letter. It was a generic introduction. I thought 'what the heck? I'll give it a try'. I replied and the next morning I received an answer. And photos. Hmmm.  Ok, wow! She's hot! Another generic letter, to be expected, I suppose. I replied with compliments on her photos and lots of questions. After more letters, seven or eight in all, and photos, each set more revealing,  I stopped writing. Each letter was generic and never answered any of my questions. While corresponding with her, I had been researching mail order bride scams and come up with bucketfuls of horror stories.

Then the deluge began. At least three to five new .ru addresses popped up in my inbox every day, each from a lonely girl in Russia. I replied to a few, ignored many. Same routine, generic letters, more and more revealing photos, no questions answered. I did get one letter where I  challenged the writer's  authenticity, or whatever, asking if it was a scam. The reply was not very nice; I did not hear from her again.

Conclusion: I think the 'girls' were really Ivan, Yuri, Boris, or some hairy whomever. All these girls were too young for me, 20-25. Judging by their letters, their expectations of an American husband and life here were way off base, at least for me. None asked for money directly, but there were several references to 'necessary-operations, apartment repairs, etc.' Adventure in sleep mode again.

Forward to Aug/Sep 2006. The bug bit again, so I checked out a few pay sites. I signed up in one, free access mode to start. After about a week of canned and several 'non standard' letters, I relented to pay the $20/month subscription to see what the 'non standard' letters said. I had to call my bank after I signed up. An automatic fraud alert locked my account. It was only slightly embarrassing to talk to the bank manager and confirm I had, indeed, subscribed to an online website to the tune of ' Hot Russian Lovers' or something like that.

I got a few introductory emails with only my user name and a little bio info. That situation quickly changed after I filled out my bio and added photos. Bunches and bunches of emails. I had brief chats with several ladies, all Russian. I narrowed it down to one, 'V', who contacted me first. We corresponded by email and a few greeting cards in the old 'snail mail.' I had gotten her phone number, called and texted a few times. That fizzled after about a year.  It took me that long to realize I wasn't going to Russia, nor did she have any intention of coming here. Interesting note: That website seems to change domain names about every six months. And 'V'... she didn't seem too broken up that we 'parted company'. Later I found her on a couple of other websites with the same bio, same photos, yet her daughter remains 14. Adventure back to sleep mode.

Late 2008... After a year hiatus, I visited a few RU websites, read the threads, got my courage up and decided to try again. This time I chose a Ukraine dating site, having decided I didn't want to deal with my perceived visa hassles of Russia, and reading it was much easier to visit Ukraine – no visa required. Like the last time, I started with the free start to the site, got some canned greetings and some longer messages, then paid for a subscription. No difficulties with the bank account this time.  Like the previous endeavor, I sifted through candidates, narrowing it down to 'Z', in Eastern Ukraine. Some repeated experiences, some different. Lots of emails, first within the website's system, then on to personal email. We exchanged a few cards, snail mails. I called a few times This one fizzled too, although I think I can say it wasn't all my fault. Here's why:

Small drama alert. After working two years for a very large, very well known large retail chain, I would have enough vacation to take a couple of weeks off in the fall. In July I got approval to take vacation in October, even though that begins the retail busy season. Two days were approved, then in August management changed. That's where it sat. No further discussion was entertained. I communicated this to 'Z' well before my planned trip, telling her I had to cancel. She seemed to understand, as I explained to her both during phone conversations and emails, I was not happy about the situation, but I needed to keep my job. Somehow those conversations and emails were forgotten as October arrived. During a weekend call she came unglued (very mild description, actually), screaming at me she had lost her job because of me, telling me she had forced the issue with her boss to get her time off for my visit and was fired. Situation: unsalvageable. I tried calling a few more times to no avail. Adventure back into sleep mode, again.

I've no idea what possessed me to keep at it. After the scammers, a couple of failures to launch, why would I want to subject myself to failure again? As mentioned somewhere, sometime, I don't remember when, I had been perusing the RU forums. I stuck to a couple of them. In the case of RUA, I became a lurker, reading and rereading threads, and decided to stay with this forum.

Around February this year, I'm pretty sure it was here, I came across a thread where a gentlemen mentioned a website where he met his wife. He talked about some of the hurdles he overcame, mainly the pro daters and scammers that exist everywhere, before he met his wife. I figured, 'what the heck?' again, and gave it a try. Same pattern, signed up for free, checked it out for about a week, then joined the pay side. Again, no problems with my bank.

Maybe I've finally learned a few things about the dating sites. Maybe. This time my bio was more specific on what I liked, disliked and expected of a partner and a relationship. Ok, it wasn't just specific, it was downright brutal. Not vulgar, just straightforward and to the point. This time I took a different tack. I initiated almost all the contacts, which is way out of character for me. Although I've taken the plunge to seek a wife, actively seeking a mate was an extremely difficult endeavor for me to undertake, since I'm very shy around women when it comes to dating. The other item which I feel made me stand out a little is although my stated goal is marriage, all I was looking for at the initial contact was to chat. Learn about each other, become friends, then maybe move on to another level.

Again, I went with Ukraine. Just wasn't in the mood to deal with visa hassles, real or perceived. I made contacts with about two dozen ladies over the course of a few weeks, including a few who contacted me first. Of those, I think I only got one scammer. This time around I got more rejections than I'd received previously. They were all polite, in the category of 'thanks for your letter, but I don't think we would be compatible. Best of luck in your search.' This was a switch, since I was used to either no reply, or a short reply, but then nothing further.

So it was here I met Olga. My introductory letter was brief, just a 'how'd you like to chat?' message through the website email system. We emailed there for a while, then moved up to their online chat system. After a bit we moved to private emails, then skype text chat, followed by audio and video chats.

We discussed a great many subjects: life, love, the pursuit of happiness, only a little bit of politics and religion – I've always found those volatile subjects. We compared notes on our respective countries, economies, monetary systems, geography and education.

I think I broached the subject of a visit to Ukraine. Many more discussions followed, negotiating vacation days, activities, what to wear, what to bring. During this time I changed jobs twice, each a move up the economic ladder. Timing was definitely on my side, as for the last job I got to select my time off for the entire year and we had already decided on a Sep. 25th arrival.

July 10, still a lurker here, I contacted David – dbneeley - privately and asked a few questions. Since then he's been inundated with questions. Some days the emails are more like a chat session. He's provided good advice, good counsel, and just plain listened.

I had to move my arrival back one day due to a training requirement just as I was preparing to buy my tickets. Since it's a pretty good job I decided it would behoove me to adjust my schedule a little to accommodate management. One day wouldn't be the end of the world.

The last month of waiting was rough. The last 24 hours was a killer for me. Anticipation, nervousness, excitement, downright terror in some cases. I have no idea what Olga suffered.


-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 01

Day 1 Sep 25, 2010

Leaving Oklahoma City. Up at 4 am. Ugh! For some reason I only got five hours of sleep. Short shower, some peanut butter crackers for breakfast. Wasn't very hungry. Nerves, I think. I'd stayed the night in town with a friend so I wouldn't have to drive to the airport, so it was less than 20 minutes to Will Rogers World Airport. Although it's not early for me, it is for my driver and son. A hug from him, they wave goodbye and head back to bed. No turning back now.

Even though it's a few minutes to 5 am on Saturday and my flight isn't until 6:10, the place is packed with soldiers leaving basic training on to their next  post. No problems with TSA. I'd read all the restrictions & requirements online and had my two carry on bags packed accordingly. I do think it sucks that you have to fit all your liquids, gels, etc. in a one quart size ziplock bag. Not bags, plural, just one bag. Makes it hard to bring any special liquid gifts in the carry on bags.

Speaking of carry on bags, I was going to attempt to do this with only a  backpack, a nine dollar special at Wal Mart. It just wasn't quite enough. Faye, my friend and chauffeur, suggested I get a small roller bag. Back to Wally world. Got one just like I'd had driving a charter bus. It was just the right size to fit in the overhead. The airline regulations allowed 'one carry on bag that could be stowed in the upper compartment and one personal bag that could fit under the seat'. Perfect. I had packed everything pretty well, but when I got to Faye's I opened my bags for inspection. After rearranging things, unrolling everything and rolling it up tighter, I was able to transfer some things from my backpack to the roller bag. Made the backpack easier to carry.

Found my gate and sat about 45 minutes until boarding. Only a few soldiers were heading to Minneapolis-St Paul, so it was nice to see the gate agent upgrading their passes to 1st class. We only sat a few minutes to finish loading and backed away from the gate. I really can't turn back now. Here's the first instance of true terror. I haven't flown in 18 years, and just spent the last three days in training at work – watching plane crash videos and investigations. I really wanted to puke. Once we got off the ground I was ok. Still a bit queasy but figured that would go away in a few minutes. It did. Since I'd had such a small breakfast I was getting hungry. As the sun rose on the starboard side it was snack time. After the peanut butter crackers I was pretty dry and hungry. Water and cookies never tasted so good.

Arrived at Minneapolis-St Paul on time. Straight to my gate to wait for the next flight. I can tell I'm in the northern US. They talk funny here. Not quite Canadian-eh, but close. (I've got a few Canadian friends and they will rap my knuckles for saying that). I'm a bit hungry, so I break out the emergency rations – Bumble Bee tuna salad and crackers. I've got a total of eight boxes stashed in my bag, backpack and windbreaker. Two boxes down.

Boarding and departure were on time. I'm getting a bit excited as I hear a couple of girls chatting in Russian. Bit of rain outside. It's cooler here than Oklahoma, even inside the airport. Quite glad I've got a windbreaker. On to JFK.

We arrive a little ahead of schedule. I'd chosen a travel plan with plenty of time between connecting flights, so this is good. I'm not a big worrier, but do like to allow a cushion from one flight to the next in case there are problems.

Now comes the long trek. Seems like I have to walk from one end of the airport to the other for my connection. No problem on walking, it just feels like 10 miles. Find the proper gate, the place is packed. I decide to wander a bit; flight time is two hours away. Now I'm really hungry. Plenty of shops around with snack stuff; I'm not really in the mood for junk. Ah, Wendy's, my savior! A single, large fries and a chocolate frosty – yum. I camp out by the gate to eat. I'm hearing lots of Russian now, and maybe some Ukrainian, too, but can't be sure. I do hit one of the shops for bottled water. I know I'll get water on the plane, but I like to have plenty handy when I want it. Ouch! Six dollars for 2 bottles, but it's quite worth it. Text messages to everyone just before boarding. Phone into airplane mode.

Boarding is on time, although quite chaotic. Gate agents are making repeated announcements to foreign travelers to turn in an immigration form before boarding, with stern warnings they will not be able to ever reenter the US if they don't. I find my seat, starboard again, on the cabin wall. I'd planned this, thinking it would be easier to sleep if I had a place to lean my head. Lots of Russian mixed with English, and a few other languages I just can't place. There's plenty of room in the overhead when I get to my seat. That doesn't last. I'm glad I got in early as people after me are cramming their bags and other stuff wherever they can. Takeoff is about an hour late, but no one seems to notice or care, least of all me. I'm really on my way to Ukraine! (note, I did NOT say 'The Ukraine', and have been correcting people on that).

I've flown over blue water a few times, so I knew what to expect. Snacks and  dinner were served almost as soon as we got to cruising altitude. I wolfed it down, including the 'vintage' red wine from the cardboard box, then took a couple of Tylenol PM to get some rest. I'd had the foresight to get a neck pillow, a 'Bucky' from Amazon. I'd seen neck pillows during my travels as a bus driver and thought they were a good idea. I'm really glad I got a good one, as I have heard complaints about the lesser versions. I also brought a small blanket knowing the airline ones can be pretty thin. Alas, good rest  was not to be. Even though I had the pillow, blanket, ipod with good earbuds, I just couldn't get comfortable. And of course, the seat cushion is like a rock. At best I nod off a few times, but never really get to sleep. Next stop, Ukraine.

-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 02

Day 2,  Sep 26, 2010 - First day in Ukraine

I'd nodded off just enough to miss sunrise. A look out to see clouds, and below, ground. Ukraine! Lots of farmland. We're approaching KBP, I don't see many highways and very little traffic. Touchdown – cheers and clapping. Somehow even with the one hour departure delay, the pilot managed to get us 15 minutes early to the gate at 9 am. Since I'm at the rear of the plane, I bide my time getting up, most everyone jumped up at the same time to get their stuff. It's true! No concourse entrance to the terminal; we depart the plane and get on buses to the terminal. Since I didn't check my bag, I go on to Immigration. It's no problem. The flight crew had given all non Ukraine citizens an immigration form to fill out, the officers did not want it, they just handed them back. I did notice the officers seemed to check passports and photos very thoroughly. Through the 'green line' of customs; I am now truly, officially, in Ukraine. Going into the main terminal from the international arrivals side, I see hand held signs on both sides of the walkway. Just past the people waiting for arrivals are the taxi drivers. They are everywhere, 'taxi?' 'taxi?', 'you want taxi?' I felt kind of rotten by replying sternly 'net' to each. One of them was polite to mention the domestic terminal was outside to the right. I felt rotten that I didn't thank him, but I sorta gave him a nod, I think.

It's a brisk walk from the international terminal to the domestic one. And a world of difference, too. The international is bustling, noisy and crowded. The domestic is empty and somewhat plain. I've got five hours to kill, so I walk around a little, locate the water closets-downstairs, then park myself on a seat. I break out a paperback. I'd had enough to eat on the plane, so I only snack on a few more of my 'e-rations', in this case peanut butter & crackers and the water I'd stuck in my backpack. Since I only have the two bags, it's no problem to hoist on the backpack and roll on over to the money exchange. I paid attention to my readings, and had brought decent hundred dollar bills. Exchanged $200, thinking that would be enough for a start, I could always get more from an ATM. The exchange rate was the same as the international terminal, and quite comparable to the last rate I had seen before I left, so I was pleased with my wad of Ukrainian cash. It's been a long time since I'd held foreign currency. Different sizes and different colors. Interesting. Got my boarding pass, went through the inspection gate. Forgot to remove my belt so the buzzer went off. They just looked and waved me on through. After about a 30 minute wait we all boarded a bus and rode out to the airplane. From JFK to KBP we had a 767. From KBP to Donetsk, I don't know what model the plane was, Embraer, I think, whatever that is. What it is... is small. One seat port and two seats starboard, maybe holds 40-50 people. I had to check my roller bag, the overhead storage is too small. The backpack fit under the seat in front of me, sorta. I got a port side seat, which was nice as I didn't have to fight for either armrest. It was a good flight, as advertised, 55 minutes. After the initial worries in OKC yesterday, I'm pretty calm about take off and landings, but I can say if there are shocks on the landing gear, they are very stiff.

I now have to admit, I was getting a bit tired, so I cheated. One NoDoz. I'd caught myself trying to nod off several time, my head almost banging the tray table.

Arrival was the same as Kyiv, land, taxi, follow the car to the designated spot, get off the plane and on the bus. This time no baggage carousel, we waited for our bags at the terminal entrance. They arrived shortly. As at a carousel, I had to 'be firm' to get my bag or I would have gotten trampled. Pulled my bag off the trailer and headed inside the terminal.

We had discussed what Olga needed to do to find me at the airport. I had suggested she hold a sign with a big smiley face on it  : ) as I thought that would be easier to see than trying to read my name on a placard. Totally unnecessary. There were maybe four people in the 'waiting area', some tall guy, which turned out to be David, whom I'd been corresponding with a bit and was waiting for some things I'd brought for him, and Olga. I knew it was her, recognizing silhouette even before I realized it. We locked eyes and I went straight to her. 'Privet' and a brief hug with Olga. Then a greeting to David. I introduced them to each other, then found out they had talked a few moments before I arrived. He and I chatted a few moments, then we all headed to the taxi Olga had rented. David and I chatted more while I handed over his stuff. We drug that out a bit more, until Olga let me know she was ready to go by pulling on my arm. I bid David goodbye with a promise to call, perhaps visit on my return to Donetsk and we climbed in the taxi. This wasn't a regular taxi, since I didn't see any signs or a meter. Vitaly, the driver, was a friend or acquaintance of her father. Olga had made this deal, so I had no clue as to costs or arrangements. I felt it prudent not to ask.

The ride was pleasant. I truly played tourist, looking at signs and sights everywhere. Even though I had not practiced my Russian like I really should have, I was able to read a few things, such as 'restaurant' and 'pub'. And of course, McDonald's. Driving (riding) in the city was what I had expected, crowded, every driver jockeying for position. Lots of gawking on my part on the way out of Donetsk. Sidewalk vendors selling most anything and everything. Once we got on the highway, the ride was as expected – the roads are somewhat rough. This is not a new highway. Saw several 'speed traps', although they didn't quite seem that since the police were in plain sight at the edge of the road using the radar gun. Even out in the open they still got a few 'lucky' drivers.

I had seen lots of farmland from the air, both coming into Kyiv and Donetsk. Now I got to see the fields a bit closer. Lots of sunflowers. I mean lots of them. I've been through Kansas and seen sunflower fields, but nothing like this. I've since learned sunflower oil is a main cooking oil here. I also learned, after commenting about the rather small size of the sunflower heads, the smaller size produces better quality oil. Hmmm....Uh... American feels about  two inches tall. Exactly 5.08 cm. Olga thankfully did not comment upon my agricultural intellect. So much for my growing up on a farm in Nebraska knowledge.

After the two or three 'speed traps' and about 30 minutes of driving, we arrive in Donskoe. It is a small town – village – as Olga described it, of about 7,000. She had warned me, five flights to her flat. Yep. I was huffing by the time we got to the top. Met her son, Alex, and her father, Vladimir. He was working on her living room. She'd had some electrical problems of some sort, so I guess it was a good time for a remodel. It looks really nice. New flooring, wallpaper, paint. Vladimir went back to work, Alex and I headed to the computer. We chatted though a translator and I sent messages to my kids and friends that I'd arrived safely.

Olga offered several choices for dinner. I chose soup. Now we're not talking soup from a can as I'm accustomed. It was from scratch. Not reheated, but truly scratch, that very moment. She peeled and sliced vegetables, dropped them into the pot, seasoned it and lit the stove. Tasty! Hot tea - 'black chai' and cookies for dessert. Her dad skipped dinner, continuing his work in the living room. After we finished eating, Alex went back to the computer. Olga instructed me to stay in the kitchen and watch tv while she helped her father.. 'Pretty Woman' was on. At first I thought it was in Russian, but she told me it was Ukrainian.  I've seen it a few times, so I know the story pretty well. Actually think it was good thing, since I picked out a few words and  associated what I knew with what I was hearing.

She had warned me on the ride from Donetsk I would be sleeping on the floor due to the remodel. I didn't mind, since I've had that experience a few times in a previous career. Lucky for me Vladimir finished his work and the living room was ready for furniture. Olga asked if I minded to help. Of course not! First we moved in the china cabinet, then tv stand, and chairs. Next was the biggest and best part. Unbeknownst to me she had bought a new sleeper sofa. It was stored next door in the neighbor's flat. Vladimir and I went over to get the pieces. Seems it doesn't matter where you are in the world, furniture is always an experience to get through hallways and doorways. We made the turns and twists and got the base into the living room. The seat cushion came in next, then the armrests. Now I'm in an area I know something about! Even though we don't understand everything being said, with or without translation, I can figure out where to put the bolts and nuts. I don't know if I impressed anyone with my mechanical expertise, but it was nice to know what I was doing. This wasn't Ikea furniture, but still it was very easy – no instructions necessary. We set the seat cushion in place, bolted on the armrests and it's done. The seat cushion is half of the bed. It slid out allowing the sofa back to fold down on side pivot hinges to make the rest of the bed. This is nothing like the fold out sofa beds I've seen in the States. And it's my bed for the visit. Vladimir said goodnight and went home. We chat for a bit while Alex plays with my digital camera. I finally crash. I've no idea what time it is – I've had little sleep for something like 40 hours. I'm bushed. We make up the sofa bed, new sheets, too, and I'm done. They're off to their beds. I'm out in 30 seconds. Or less.

 -30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 03

Day 3,  Sep 27, 2010 - Second day in Ukraine

I wake up – dark outside. No wonder, it's only 4:45am. Dang. Not jet lag, I think, as this is about the time I usually get up. I take a couple of Tylenol PM. They help my knees, still hurt from sitting so long on the plane, but I can't get back to sleep until dawn. Finally roll off the sofa bed about 10 am. Scrambled eggs, tea and more cookies. I'm not used to a big breakfast, so this is just right. We chat, then I get a hot shower. Clean! Still tired from the traveling, but I now feel close to human. Olga sends me to the living room to watch MTV while she cleans up from breakfast. Wow! MTV is actually playing music here. Even though it's in Russian, I like it. I listen to Trance on podcasts at home, so this is right up my alley. There's a few American videos mixed in, including a Shania Twain 'oldie'.

Ok, maybe a little jet lag. I give in to a short rest. Alex returns from school. I send a few emails, catching up and making reports that 'I have not been kidnapped and I do not expect to be killed'. Too many reports of mayhem south of the US border for my kids and friends. We eat a late lunch, then Olga takes me on a walk to buy groceries for dinner. The day had started cloudy and cool. At mid afternoon it's quite pleasant. Clear skies and sun, no jacket required. Sorry Phil Collins.  And very quiet – a great change from the bustle of the past two days. To me everything seems to have slowed, no craziness like in a city. I had said walk, but actually it's more like a hike. I'm pretty spoiled, being used to driving everywhere. Donskoe is not on flat ground. The shops are not centrally located. We walk, and walk, and walk, from store to store. Some places we get nothing, just a quick look and we're back outside. Others we get a few things and move on. By the time we're done, and the bag is totally full, I've lost count of stores, actually was probably only five or six. Worse for me, though, I am thoroughly and hopelessly lost. Since the bag is full, the last few items went into her purse. We make one more stop for a cake, which she carries back. Now the part about the hike – returning to her flat is uphill. It doesn't seem too bad, just slow. I don't see any familiar landmarks, though. Everything is good, we make it back. Oh, joy. Five flights up. I'd kinda forgotten that.

Earlier I had shown Alex my iPhone. Since I turned it off from good warning what the usage costs would be, it's still got a good battery. 'Cool' is Alex's verdict. He plays with the music, camera & video apps. So far I've not been allowed to help with anything, total guest. Now I get to help by peeling potatoes. Olga cooks, I peel and Alex discovers more apps on my phone. Everything is just about ready. Vladimir and Olga's sister, Irina, arrive. Even though I was sitting in the kitchen, somewhat paying attention, I didn't realize just how much Olga had prepared. After several trips from the kitchen to the living room, the table is almost covered with food. I am told to sit. I notice two bottles at her father's place. At first I don't get it – I look at one, read the label 'banana' and pray I don't have to drink that. I don't like bananas or anything banana associated. Turns out I'd forgotten Olga told me her dad makes his own wine. He brought white and red. I'd heard him say 'grappa', I think. He first pours the white and makes a toast. The glasses were what I would consider a double shot. A bit much for me to down in one swallow, but I try. Then we eat. I pace myself so I can try everything. It's all delicious! Another toast, white for the girls, red for Vladimir and me. This is good stuff, a little stouter than I expected. Good winemaker.  More eating and more toasts. I get a chance to make one, too. I knew it was coming, but was totally blank when it was my turn. I came up with something, don't remember what, but it seemed acceptable. Oh yeah, compliments to Olga – good cook. I revisited several dishes a few times. Somehow, double shots at a time, we pretty much finished both bottles. I'm not drunk, but definitely won't be driving tonight. Good stuff. Close to 11pm Vladimir cuts the cake and passes out huge pieces. I'd thought it was just a chocolate cake when Olga bought it. That was just the outside. Inside were three layers each of cake and a kind of marshmallow. Extremely sweet, even for me, who loves sweet and chocolate. No sugar required for my tea. Too full, couldn't finish my cake. Throughout dinner we all chatted. Mostly in Russian, of course. Poor Olga, she had to do all the translating. I'm pretty sure she was worn out from this task.

Time for departures, but not before I present gifts. I had read somewhere was a good idea to do this, and I have to admit, I was more than a little hung up on it, wanting to make a good impression. First was her father, leather gloves – a practical item since I knew he does quite a bit of gardening. Next were joke gifts. Although Olga and I have chatted at great length and she's got a good idea of my humor, she now got to see it in action. Olga provided translated my explanations while I handed out the goodies. First was Alex. This one had struck me as a good idea, as I've got a teenage boy. With some fanfare, I presented a Hot Wheels Jeep. Every teenage boy should have his own car. Irina next. I know she has a cat, and isn't too keen on mice, so I handed her a toy mouse. With Olga still translating, I explained that we had talked about Irina some, and she could blame this upon her sister. Last Olga's turn. As I've said, I was pretty hung up on the gift idea, wanting to make a good impression, but also mindful I didn't do anything too big that would cause any embarrassment. Forging on, again with explanations translated, I hand Olga a dish scrubber, the kind with a sponge on one side and scratcher on the other. She seems relatively pleased, as during my inquiries about gifts, she had told me she prefers practical things. All I can say to that is HMPH! I don't believe in practical things as gifts. That's like getting long underwear and socks for a birthday. There were many laughs at my presentations and Olga's translations as each recipient understood what they got and why.

Now comes the truly fun part for me – the real presents. After much thought and the assistance of my teenage son, I presented an iPod to Alex. I'd also got him a decent set of earbuds since I don't like what comes with the iPod. It was the most expensive present, but was chosen carefully, since almost all boys I know like electronics. Irina next. Again this was to blame upon her sister...a mixed bag of chocolate, somewhere in the neighborhood of five pounds, I think. I tried to get a good cross section of selections, from normal sweet to the super dark. Lastly, Olga. Hers was the smallest, enclosed in a small drawstring bag. I had expected her to open it right there, but net, she thanked me for it and slipped it in her pocket.

Vladimir and Irina left, 'da svedanya' (sp?).  I had enough sense to reply 'poka'. Alex headed to bed. We chatted some more and she finally opened the bag. Impression time, I hope. A small necklace, sterling silver, with a starfish pendant. I help her put it on and receive a nice hug.

It's midnight-thirty and I'm beat. Waaaay past my bedtime. Like last night, only a few seconds on the pillow and I'm out.

 -30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 04

Sep 28, 2010 - Third day in Ukraine

Late breakfast, about 9:30 or so. It's nice to sleep in, especially since I'm used to getting up at 5 am. My iPhone has been off for two days now but it seems like a month. Nice. No ringing, no text messages, no complaints.

It rained a bit through the night. Nothing heavy, really good for sleeping. Today we'll shop again for food. Tonight – borscht. I'm looking forward to the experience on several levels. I've already determined I enjoy Olga's cooking. But also, I've heard all sorts of horror stories about borscht, mostly from my dad and others with only a fleeting knowledge of life behind the Iron Curtain 'back in the day'. Oops, I was wrong. Olga already has the ingredients she needs from her father's garden. Just as well, as I don't want to admit it, but I've got a touch more of jet lag. Staying up late is taking its toll. I watch MTV again, a couple of cat naps and then one good hard sleep to put things right.

Alex returns from school. iPod time! He really didn't get a good look at it last night, so now it gets his full attention. After he plays with it a bit scrolling through the menus, it's my turn to show off. The first feature I demonstrate is the language menu. Although Olga protests, I switch it to Russian. I agree it would be a good way for him to practice English, but on this I think it's better to have it in something he easily understands. Alex is happy with the decision and continues to play. Now I've got to find iTunes on the net. I type iTunes into Google. Somehow it (Google) knows I'm in Ukraine – so everything pops up in Russian, I think. Downloading is easy but takes some time, so it's a good opportunity to 'talk' with Alex. Most of our talking is using the translator program on the computer. It goes pretty fast until we reach the question of how much an iPod costs. With a vow of secrecy from Alex, I only tell him it was more than the other gifts. I really don't want Olga to feel like I've done too much or that she must reciprocate in kind. I explained to him, as previously I had to Olga, that I chose this, with my son's assistance, because I know boys like electronics. Evidently I am correct. He agrees to our pact. Of course Olga finds out and gives me quite the stern look, but acquiesces. Finally downloaded, I find the exe file and double click it. And we're off again... more time waiting while iTunes does its thing. Now here's a screen I recognize. Again, it's all in Russian, I think. That's not a problem since I actually do know what I'm doing. More talking through the translator, some explanations about tabs in iTunes, I import some music to iTunes. A little more instruction and we – ok, Alex – is importing photos to iTunes. After that – mostly, I believe because he's a teenage boy, I've got one at home his age  - light speed! He's doing stuff with the iPod I never dreamed was possible.

During all this I'm shuttling to and from the kitchen. Help is not allowed for this meal, it's all Olga. Although cooking is the same everywhere, it's still interesting to watch the preparation. The funniest by far was the final ingredient during cooking. Olga fetched something from the freezer, to which I received  my first language lesson from her, 'shto et it', I think is what she said. 'What is it?' So I said that, sort of. Her reply was laughter, and then 'grass!' She was shaving slices from a huge block of parsley and adding it to the soup. Not a big deal, really, to get some parsley, but it was all in the presentation. She's got a good sense of humor.  Fifteen minutes and it was on the table. Sour cream was also on the table, but I didn't know what to do with it. Alex remedied that, I followed. I don't have a refined palette by any means. I know what I like and I know what I don't. I asked for seconds. I think I made a good impression. And yes, I really did like it. Dessert was the rest of my cake from last night. It was still very sweet, even for me who takes  four spoons of sugar in my tea. With a glass of cold milk it was a good ending to a very good meal.

Alex headed out with some friends as we retired to the living room. I'm not in the mood for tv. I can pick out a few words, but the truth is, for me, it's about the same as it is at home, background noise. One thing did catch my eye. Even though  I didn't understand what's being said, a short parody of 'House' is absolutely hilarious. We chat a bit, then Olga asks if I'd like to see some photos. 'Da. Kanyeshna', I would. She gets out her photo albums and tells me about the locations, occasions, her family and what was happening in the pictures. I'm glad I've done my reading assignments because I'm able to recognize 'Last Bell' from her school photos. I hope I've made another good impression.

Family fun time! Alex returned from visiting his friends, so it was time to get out the last of the gifts. Olga has already seen these, but actually playing is an entirely different experience. Scrabble and Uno. This was my attempt at  educational toys for all of us – a way for me to learn Russian in practical use and for them a method to improve their English. Uno  first. Explaining the rules took some time. It's tough enough in English. To get it Russian...that took about 20 minutes of me reading the rules and explaining while Olga asked questions and translated for Alex. Although I said it was a practice game, Olga kept score. A few hands into the game Alex is catching on well while Olga is strategizing. I can see great concentration on their faces. Then the hilarity kicked in. Even though I had explained the concept of saying 'Uno' or 'Iden' when reaching the last card in a player's hand, poor Alex forgot twice in a row and suffered the penalty of drawing from the deck each time. For me it was fun trying to remember the colors and numbers in Russian. We went through the deck twice and still didn't reach 500 points. I mentioned Scrabble to Olga, she grabbed the box and we switched games. I don't remember who 'won'.

As I mentioned, Olga and I had looked at this previously. I chose a travel set since it's made to hold the letter tiles snugly, like the deluxe set but much smaller. Again explanations on the rules, this time mostly for Alex. Thinking I had an advantage, I kept it to short, easy words. Alex had the greatest difficulty finding ways to place words. That is until he got out Olga's sister's laptop, a dictionary and started translating words. After some frustration his eyes pop. Now he waits to pounce. Olga, too, concentrates on words and strategy. Finally it's time for sleep. Just like the other game, this was a practice round. Still, Olga kept score. After a quick tally she shouts 'Yes! Yes! Yes! I win!' Even though my intent was to just use these as learning tools, we had a blast. Olga tells me she likes the games, especially Scrabble, for the challenge. Sleep.

-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 05

9/29/10, Fourth day in Ukraine

Up with the sun, actually a bit before, sort of on my schedule again. Alex heads to school; Olga sleeps. Two cups of tea for me as the sky lightens and the sun finally peeks above the next building. I prepare coffee and cookies for Olga. Rather proud of myself that I can make instant coffee and dig out a couple of cookies. I later discover I used the wrong spoon - a tablespoon instead of teaspoon - to measure out the coffee and sugar. Uh, oops. She is very gracious, no complaints, not even a grimace. I feel bad knowing how strong it must have been. Can anyone say 10W50? Yuck! Sorry, Olga.

We chat, mostly English with some translations. We think about what to do with the day. We'd considered to going to Donetsk, but we'll do that tomorrow. We talk some more, MTV is playing in the background. I think during the day it's mostly music. I watch a few videos in English, most of the rest are Russian, with one in Italian. That was different. Lots of chatting today about things in Ukraine, things in Oklahoma. That's followed by vocabulary and grammar lessons. It's a fun process as we each say something, try to explain, make the face of not understanding, then resort to the translator. Alex returns from school. Straight to the computer. Yep, teenage boy. He and I talk some, as well. I ask about his day. 'School is boring' seems to be the mantra of all teenagers. We laugh. I understand. Although it's been quite a while since I was in high school - 'back in the day' as I'm told, I remember and explain it was the same for me. He smiles in understanding. Yep, school boredom is universal.

After dinner Alex is again glued to the computer. Olga and I head back to living room. She asks if I'd be interested in looking at more photos. Da, kanyeshna. We look and she explains events of her's and Alex's childhoods. At some point during the viewing we come across as extra passport photo. I asked to her passport, curious to see where she's been. I look and see plenty of stamps but don't find any entries, exits or visas. The explanation - it's an internal passport. The last time I'd heard or seen one of these was in the mid 80's in West Germany. I had no idea such passports were still in use anywhere in the world. Olga went on to explain each page and the corresponding stamps. I was still having problems understanding why she has to have it, especially since I don't have to have one where I live. After a few more attempts I begin to get the idea when she explains in very exact terms the need for having 'papers'. "There is a saying,"  she says, "if you do not have papers, you are  s***!" I am not offended by the term, but I was absolutely flabbergasted that she said it. I mean really floored, not by her statement, but the presentation. She said it with such a serious face and voice I was truly stunned. As I think I finally understand, without papers, again her explanation, you are a non person - you do not exist. Wow.

Change up time. Olga invites me for a walk. It's a little cool so we grabbed our jackets. We take just about the route as Monday. Although I was incredibly lost that first day - the grocery trip - I recognize a few places. A few other things click, including when we walk past the 'banya'. I didn't realize right away that I knew what it was, until she begins to explain the public sauna. We walk and talk. More language practice for me, directions in Russian. Left, right, north, south, etc. Sadly, I don't remember anything from that lesson. We made the big circle again just like last time when she asked what else I wanted to see. I wasn't quite ready to call it a night yet, so I suggested we head back to the park. That seemed agreeable to her, back we went. All the really dark places were taken, so we picked a bench on the main pathway. It was very nice to sit close in the kind of dark. We chatted quietly and people watched. Pleasant for both of us. Back up the hill. I was still lost when we got into the apartment building complex until we got right up to the door. Ugh. Five flights. Yes, I'm huffing when I get to the top, but not too bad. Nice workout before sleep. 

-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 06

Sep 30, 2010 - Fifth day in Ukraine

To Donetsk! Several errands on the list today. Buy a phone for Alex, webcam for Olga, hopefully a visit with David. Maybe shop at a second hand clothing store he recommended. It's brisk, so we double time it to the bus stop. I'm expecting a transit bus of some sort. Turns out 'bus' in this case is a gypsy taxi of sorts. I later receive an explanation that this is a way drivers earn a little extra money, giving a ride to people. Quick negotiation, Olga pays 40 grivna, about $5, we're on our way. Nice ride to the city. I had expected a little wild or fast driving, no particular reason, just thought it possible having lived in Europe previously. Didn't happen, especially with the police in the same places I'd noticed on my arrival. I recognize a few sights and sign from the trip out, but once we get to Donetsk I'm lost again.

The streets are full. Of course, it's a weekday, but it seems to me the same amount of cars on the road as Sunday. There are more people on the sidewalk. We're dropped off at a great landmark, McDonald's. I take a few photos just because it's there. However, I have absolutely no intentions of going inside. Nothing against McDonald's, other than I've eaten there too many times in my life. I am surprised to see 24 hour drive through.
On Olga's good advice we visit a public toilet, since we'll be walking and may not have access to one later at a convenient time. Down a dark flight of stairs underground to an even darker landing. No working lights, only a  few small candles on the floor. I think the older woman working there at the space between the mens' and womens' was selling toilet paper. Unimaginable, it was even darker in the mens' room. TCB and I'm back above ground. Took some more tourist photos and we're off again.

Seems like rush hour traffic here all the time. We get to a bus stop and Olga starts looking at buses for the route that will take us to our first shopping venue. She indicates a bus. It's packed. I mean like sardines, packed. We squeeze in; I end up standing on the stairs. Ticket price: two grivnas. She hands them to a person next to us, he hands them forward. Eventually I guess the money makes its way to the ticket person at the front. We arrive. You guessed it, I have no idea where we are, hopelessly lost yet again, this time in the big city. During one of our walks I had jokingly commented to Olga that I should have brought my hand held gps. This is definitely the time for that.
First order of business, Alex's phone. He'd had a birthday recently. During a Skype chat I had asked and received permission to contribute to the birthday fund. I prefer to pick out a gift, since I think giving cash is gauche and thoughtless, but in this case, having teenage children and knowing their methods, money was acceptable to me. I had no idea what to expect in the way of retail stores. The place was a maze of tiny shops, twisting and turning walkways. We go into a couple of shops, Olga quickly surveys prices and we're back outside. We stop longer at the fourth place, visit two or three more, then back to number four. I look around the store at phones while Olga gets a demo from the salesgirl. She asks about another phone and the salesgirl starts a demo on that phone. I went over to watch. I don't understand the words, but the motions and displays on the screen make sense. Back and forth between phones, they're both about the same price and have about the same features. There's a pause in the demonstrations and Olga looks to me, I presume for an opinion. Of course I pick the pricier one, she seems pleased and agrees. I do recommend a screen protector. The salesgirl agrees and proceeds to extol the virtues of screen protection. After her spiel, though, it's a pass. I had read something about leaving the manufacturer's plastic cover on as long as possible. That seems to be the case as I'd noticed the original cover still on her sister's laptop. My son will probably shake his head since I try to do the very same thing, despite his best efforts to 'help me' by removing the plastic from my cell phone. Olga had a shopping list for this store; a few items are purchased for her sister and we're done here. I have wised up enough to not butt in or ask loud questions - because I'm wondering why she didn't get a sim card or airtime. That is handled later, but I still don't know why.

Next is a webcam for Olga for future skype chats. I had bought one at Wally World but decided to leave home and get one in Ukraine so the instructions and program would be in Russian. We're still in the same little shopping maze. We pop in and out of several electronics shops asking for webcams. Eventually we make it to a very small computer store and mission accomplished.

Although it's been sprinkling about an hour, it's still nice enough to stay outside. We decide to walk in a park, then give David a call. The park is nice, like any other park, I think. Wrong. After a few turns I see iron sculptures, including a pig with a padlock in its nose. I didn't think anything special until we pass an iron gazebo with hundreds of padlocks, names and dates engraved upon them, secured to the bars. Olga tells me it's a Donetsk tradition, placing the padlocks, and many Saturdays the park is filled with weddings. We sit on a bench for a while and chat. Lots of chatting, by the way. We're getting along quite well, I think.

By now I'm getting very hungry as I missed breakfast and the muffin bread she'd made. Ah, the miracles of technology - Olga has a bread machine. She had set it up the night before so the bread would be ready at breakfast. The bread was sitting on the stove when I'd gone to wash my face. When I came out it was gone. Later she told me she'd thought I'd gotten what I wanted, so she hid it in the oven from Pusya, her cat. I mention my emancipation to Olga; she recommend a small cafe where she and her sister had eaten a few times. A cafe was fine with me. We had a good meal for 79 grivna, about $10. During our meal the sprinkles turn into a downpour. We take our time eating, enjoying the break from walking. The cafe fills as the rain continues. By the time we leave the cafe is full. The rain has not stopped. One more store and then we'll visit David.

Still raining, but slowing, we make it to our final shopping stop. This time it's a big building, everything inside. Olga, too, had a birthday recently. Again, with her permission, I provided some funds. In this case it wasn't a situation of the recipient wanting money or lack of thought on my part. I had no idea what would be appropriate. I do have one rule on gifts - nothing practical. No vacuum cleaners, dishwashers or any other household appliance. That also means no socks or long underwear. These things are not gifts in my opinion. Olga had already decided she wanted a gold necklace. As with the phone, we visit six or seven counters before we return to the next to last place. She looks at several displays before narrowing it down to two. I again had the privilege of offering my opinion. Olga appears happy with my choice.

Time to head back. Even though I really want to visit with David and hit the second hand store, it's pouring again. We're soaked and cold. I call with my regrets as we head for a city bus stop. That gets us to a main bus transfer station for our ride back to Donskoe. From there it's regular buses all the way back, with a 45 minute wait for a transfer.

Sometime during the maze of the city bus rides a ticket inspector got on the bus. A quick ID and badge flash and he's asking me to show my ticket. I know what's happening, but I give him the stupid look since I don't know specifically what he's asking, and point to Olga. Somehow even though she had tried to pay for two tickets, she had only gotten one. The inspector was really cool about it and her explanation, which of course I did not understand that, either. He allowed her to buy another one grivna ticket and all was good. He went on to inspect everyone else's tickets.

After a wardrobe change, first priority is the iPod. Poor Alex! He's freaked. His new toy is locked up; the screen is frozen and won't respond to my button pushing. It won't turn off or anything. I don't have a clue what to do and I can't call my son back in the States for this. The next best thing I can think of is Google. Less than five minutes later, a big sigh of relieve from Alex - it's up and running. I am the hero! I did joke with Olga that we should tell Alex I'd have to take it home for repair and send it back to him. She laughed and told me I'm terrible. My son would agree. I'm sure Alex would, too.

New phone time. As quick as he was with the iPod, he's got the phone all figured out, sans instruction manual. The next couple of hours he's showing us all the wonderful things his phone can do. We are suitably impressed. Yep. Teenage boys and electronics were made for each other. Adult boys, too.
Dinner time. I get several options and choose eggs. After tea and cookies we spend the evening chatting, some channel surfing with MTV. It was a long day. I turn in early, in this case, before midnight.

-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 07

Oct 1, 2010 - Sixth day in Ukraine

I sleep in. Olga left a note that she was called to work, I've got the place to myself. A little computer time, check emails, write notes, and some tea. Somehow, even though I've been eating well, I mean really well, I'm losing weight. Wonder if it has anything to do with: haven't had a soda since the 24th, not snacking like crazy, what I am eating is prepared fresh, no preservatives, lower salt, a whole lot less sugar. Two notches on the belt. Hmmm.

Olga and Alex return about the same time, about noon. I guess Fridays are half days for him. We eat lunch, chat about the day, his school, her work, a bit about the weather, then as usual, Alex is back on the computer. I was supposed to help him load videos into iTunes and then his iPod. We couldn't drop and drag like we did his music. I'd researched it but hadn't found a solution that worked. I had explained to him how I found the method to 'repair' it yesterday when it locked up, by going to Google. He paid close attention, since now he knows how to do it and 'it's good'. I'm glad he figured it out because I just wasn't getting it. Olga and I agree - 'teenage boys and toys, especially electronics...'

Souvenir time. Ok, this is better described as payback time for me having spent 'so much' on gifts. Olga takes me on the grand tour of shops in Donskoe. I thought I'd seen them all during the grocery trips, all six or seven shops. Wrong! I swear we hit at least two dozen places. We visited all the ones from before, and then the 'new' ones. Some were street level shops. Most were clusters of three, four or more little stores tucked into a basement. Too much to choose from. Added to that, I am clueless to what a teenage girl and boy would like. I'm sure they would appreciate anything I brought back, but that's not the same as liking something. We decide on candy, a safe choice. I had brought a small variety of chocolates, some dark, some regular. Olga outdid me! First were the individual candies. No matter how much I protested, she would select one, then another, and add it to the scales. I think there were eight different types. I think she enjoyed this. At one point I might have spied a smirk. By the time she was finished, it felt like five kilos. Then she started picking out chocolate bars. Did I mention she outdid me? My protests went unheeded.  Then... 'we' decided I should take back some vodka for a few close friends. Man, that stuff is inexpensive! Most people would say cheap for a low price, but I later discovered this stuff was by no means cheap – rotgut it is not. Lucky for me I'm not a big time vodka drinker. Mindful of import restrictions and TSA restrictions, we searched for 100ml bottles, but no one had anything that small. The smallest available was 200ml, she picked out four, which I figured would be ok, since I vaguely remembered the duty free import might be one liter. I should mention that my money was worthless here. She would not hear my protests that she was spending too much, or that I should at least contribute something.

She finally relented a little by allowing me to pay for a few groceries for the evening meal, snacks and two bottles of beer for my final evening. Back up the hill to her apartment. The bag is full. Olga commented that both times she did the shopping, but returned with 'empty hands'. She seemed pleased with the situation. I admit I like it, too.

Back at the flat I packed a few things, trying to figure where I'm going to put all the candy and vodka, then joined her as she put away the groceries and started dinner. Tonight we eat вареники – vareniky. Olga had mentioned this during a chat before I arrived, asking if I would try a traditional Ukrainian dish. I had promised not to research it so it would be a surprise, only a little afraid of what I might be subjected to eating. She began by starting a mixture in the bread machine. I noticed she forgot the yeast and mentioned it. That was her plan, so I accepted her reply and decided not to offer any more 'observations'. She peeled potatoes to boil while onions fried. Ingredients, I'm told, as shortly she allowed me to mash the potatoes. Smells good. I love fried onions, and mashed potatoes, too. Into the potatoes go the onions and a little salt. More mashing and mixing for me. When the dough is ready she rolls out a section, cuts it into small chunks and proceeds to flatten them into little pancakes. Next she fills them with the potato mixture, folds them over and pinches the edges closed. Little half moons. It looks easy to me, so I ask if I can try. Olga consents and demonstrates. My first few attempts are truly horrible; my little works of art are nothing like hers. With the patience of a mother, she smiles and encourages me to continue. After a dozen, well,  more than that, actually, I get the hang of it. Since I'm such a good helper in the kitchen - note, still wanting to make a good impression - I get the job of the final cooking stage tonight, cooking the vareniky. It's easy to see which ones are mine - the ones that look like crash debris in the water. My skills improved with experience. We get a routine going, she rolls out dough, we both fill and pinch them off, then I drop them into the boiling pot, gently stirring, with continued adult supervision. After two batches of dough we run out of filling. The last of my creations are looking pretty good now. I'm glad my first attempts are at the bottom of the bowl. Maybe Pusya - the cat - will eat them. Like borscht, sour cream is added. I like it. Alex does too, as he eats several bowlfuls. I'm right behind him. The cookies are gone, just tea for dessert. Just as well, I'm full. Olga did explain to me about the вареники, that just about any type of filling can be used, cabbage, meat, etc. She chose potatoes and onions for tonight. My unsolicited opinion, it was a good choice.

Seems I'm making a good impression... Olga allowed me to clean up the kitchen a bit while she heads to the living room for some tv. After about 10 minutes of chat and MTV, she asked if we could get out the UNO deck. Alex wants to play again. Evidently he really likes it. Yep, proud of myself once again. This time Alex only forgets one time to announce 'idien'. Olga caught him and insisted he take his two card penalty. After a short break mid-game, Alex returns with goodies: popcorn she'd gotten  yesterday during our trip, the beer, dried fish she wanted me to try, cheese and kielbasa. Ever the polite hostess, Olga apologized that she forgot to ask if I preferred dark or light beer. I've already had a few drinks of the Ukraine beer. It's good. My favorite US domestic is Miller - the champagne of beers. This is pretty close. We play on, drinking, eating, telling a few jokes, which sometimes suffer in translation. The dried fish, somewhat like jerky, turned out to be salmon. It was good, but since I'd recently had extensive dental work, I really couldn't enjoy it.

At the final tally of points, Alex won. Hmph, I'm still at zero. Sadly, at close to midnight it's time to call it a day. Alex bids us goodnight. I can tell he's not happy that the fun is over. Olga comments that she can't believe I leave tomorrow. I, too, am sad that it's coming to an end. We clean up. I rearrange my bags and get ready for bed. I heard a noise in the kitchen. Upon investigation, I spy Olga preparing another bread for breakfast. She programs it to finish cooking at breakfast.

Even though it's late, now past midnight, I'm starting to get pumped up about the trip home. Two more days of travel ahead - 8,000 plus miles. I write a few notes and kill the light. I stare at the ceiling a while, contemplating the week's events. Sleep eventually arrives.

-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 08

Oct 2, 2010 - Seventh day in Ukraine, heading home

Even though it's my last day here, I sleep in a little and don't get up until sunrise. вареники and tea for breakfast. I'm not much of a Fruit Loops or cornflakes eater, so this suits me just fine. The bread is done - she calls it muffin bread, and smells wonderful! Olga outdoes her own hospitality. slices the bread, some cheese and kielbasa, then packs my lunch. It's a simple and practical gesture, but I am speechless.

No taxi ride today, Vitaly, our driver for my arrival, has to work. No gypsy taxis at the bus stop, either, so we get on a regular bus. The trip will require switching to another bus. At the transfer spot the first bus to Donetsk is too full, so we wait for the next one. Although Olga doesn't know it, I am a bit concerned I'll get to the airport on time. So far everything has worked out well for my trip, and I really shouldn't have any worries, it's just one of those things a person (me) thinks about. Before another bus arrives, a driver stops and rolls down the passenger window. I catch enough to realize he's going to Donetsk. We hop in and before I can even ask how close we'll get to the airport, Olga has negotiated our ride all the way to the terminal.

They chat off and on during the ride. I'm sightseeing again, looking out the windows and taking tourist photos. About halfway there I hear 'American' and 'internet'. We laugh, though I have no idea if we're laughing at the same thing. Our driver, Roman, introduces himself to me. I return the gesture. He says something, which Olga translates, that we should call him on my next trip. We roll into Donetsk. Traffic is just like Thursday, crazy. I recognize a few places having been on these streets all of three times now. We breeze past McDonald's; Olga points out the park we visited. In no time we're at the terminal. Olga gets Roman's info while I take his photo. That done, we head up the steps. My worries about time were completely unfounded. We're inside before it's even 10 am; my flight isn't until 12:35. We find a spot across from the security checkpoint to sit and chat.

All too soon for me, it's time to check in. I'm set – my passport, boarding pass and tickets are in order. A short embrace, an even briefer kiss and it's time for me to go through the checkpoint. My emotions are pretty twisted right now. Perhaps hers are, too. I can't tell as we both are keeping poker faces. With a short smile and 'poka', I'm through the checkpoint. I look back through the doorway a couple of times, hoping to see her one more time, but she's already gone. Wow! this part of the adventure is done.

Before I get a chance to brood I start up a conversation with an American heading back to Kyiv. We talk about the economy, travel, food, and living in Ukraine. Bus out to the plane, an Embraer. It's a small plane. I was lucky enough to have a port side seat on the way down, so I asked for the same on my return. No fighting for the armrest. Donetsk is a small airport, at least it seems that way to me with only one runway. I hadn't noticed this during my arrival. We taxi for what seems one end of the runway to the other. Only a short wait for one arrival and we're in the air. It's a good time to write notes. On the ground it was overcast and a little cool. We're shortly above the clouds. It's so bright, so quick, I have to pull the shade. Flight time back to Kyiv is 55 minutes, same time both ways. I did decide to get my bag wrapped in Donetsk. It was only 30 grivna. It's somewhat of a novelty to me, but also a necessity and money well spent. On the trip down, the contents of my bag mysteriously 'shifted' during the flight. Nothing was missing, but everything was in a different place.

Back at the domestic terminal in Kyiv. Now I'm in familiar territory of sorts. After retrieving my bag I stop at the currency exchange window to get a few more grivna, just in case. Short trip to the WC in the basement, more familiar territory, and I make the walk to the international terminal. Unlike the trip down, I'm no longer worried I'll get waylaid between the buildings. At the international terminal...here's where the action is - a few people hold placards for arrivals. Taxi drivers are scattered everywhere. There's a few girls hawking for them, loudly repeating a litany of some sort for the driver's services. It would have been interesting to hear it in English. Inside it's not quite a madhouse, but really close. It's crowded, people streaming in from the international arrivals door, others in line at the bag wrappers, everyone weaving around trying to get to their next stop. I join the gaggle at a departure monitor to find my flight info.

I've got plenty of time, so I walk around a bit and head back to the front of the terminal to people watch. Even behind the glass partition I can still hear a girl hawking for her taxi driver. Thirty minutes is enough watching; I'm hungry. I get a seat next to the restaurant area, not fair to sit at a table without buying something, and dig out lunch. Ah, a meal never tasted so good. Two things made it great: First, the restaurant is very pricey, I think, for 'authentic Ukrainian meal'. Second, but most important, when I opened the package Olga wrapped, it was a picnic. It might have just been a practical thing to her, to pack a lunch, but to me it meant she's thoughtful and cares. I really like this girl! I could have eaten everything, but decide to save some for later.

Even though I was extremely early, hours early, I wasn't even close to the front of the line when the ticket desk opened. When it was finally my turn to step up to the counter, I only got a light scolding when I had to move the vodka from my backpack to my checked bag. I hadn't thought about TSA restrictions coming back, I wasn't in the US yet. It hadn't been a problem boarding in Donetsk. All the security officer there asked was what was in the bottles. I offered to move to the back of the line and repack, but the desk attendants had me fix it right there while they printed my boarding passes for the entire return flight. The people waiting behind me were pretty cool. Amazingly there were no glares, at least not that I could see. Next stop was immigration control upstairs. I had called David in the morning with my concerns about getting my passport stamped with an exit stamp. He assured me it would be done in the process of leaving the country. Of course, he was right. My worries were based upon remembering the loud announcements at JFK, the gate attendants there were extremely emphatic that foreigners turn in their paperwork or they couldn't return. I really want to come back to Ukraine! A few questions from the immigration officer and my passport is stamped. On to the gate. Now this is different – no bus. We actually get a 'normal' gate. Through the concourse, into the plane, a couple of hours of flight time and I'm in Amsterdam. The flight was quiet – snacks, soft drinks and note writing. And wistful thoughts of my too short visit.

Shiphol was easy. I had checked my bag from KBP to Amsterdam, hearing or reading somewhere (yes, David, I think) that it's a good way to not lose your bags. It's a big airport and took a while to get to the baggage carousel. I had go through immigration to get my bag, then customs, go 'outside' the airport, but still inside the building, then back through immigration and customs to get 'inside' the airport. Immigration was super easy – where had I been, where was I from, where was I going to? Customs was easier  – 'Have a nice day, sir.' Wow. No worries about bringing in the chocolates or vodka. I did ask, just to make sure I wasn't breaking any rules or laws that could get me detained, or worse. No worries. I'm getting sensory overload again, I spy an open ticket counter for my next flight. I ask, yep, this is where I check in for the next leg home.

On to my lodging – Yotel – inside the airport. I'd forgotten my map and directions, so I had asked one of the immigration officers. He gave me easy instructions – up the escalator, past the restaurant and I was at the check-in desk. Super quick check-in; everything was in order. Thank you online booking! All I needed was a card key and the tv remote. Yotel was everything I expected, and more. It is tiny, but all I really wanted was to eat, shower and sleep. The shower was wonderful with a shower head that could drown an elephant. Yes, it was the biggest shower head I've ever seen. Felt like I used 100 gallons of water. It was strange to hear a drain pump cycle on and off while I showered. Guess it keeps the rooms from flooding. Dinner was the remains of lunch. It was good. The bread still seemed fresh, even after being squished in my backpack. A little channel surfing before sleep. The Snickers commercials are really funny. I've seen them in English, Russian and now Dutch. They are all basically the same, but seem much funnier in another language. Movies in English and Dutch with subtitles. I watched part of something for a while, then crashed. The bed was as advertised – comfy. Slept well, very little noise from the hall or next door. I like Yotel and will be using it in the future. Almost home.

-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report Day 09

Oct 3, 2010 – Heading home from Amsterdam; return to OKC

Woke early to a cool room. I'd played with the thermostat and left it on 19 – about 67F. Didn't mind, it felt good. Wasn't in the mood to spend money in the airport restaurant, so I finished the last piece of muffin bread and two more of my 'emergency rations' – Bumble Bee Tuna Salad and crackers. I repacked my bags. The vodka made the trip ok, I had just shoved them in the bag and hoped for the best. This time they got more attention by rolling them in clothing for cushioning. I'd hate to get all the way back and have them broken in transit. Worse, I think I'd get too much attention if I smelled like a distillery at customs.

It's still quiet in my room and throughout the Yotel. I really like this place. Whoever designed and built it did a good job. Checking out is quick as the check in. Nothing to sign, just drop off the key and tv remote. The restaurant is about half full, with a bunch of people in line to pay for their food. I'm full so there is no temptation. I figure I probably saved myself $15-20. At the bottom of the escalators are the departure monitors. Also displayed next to the gate information is the approximate walking time to each gate. The info is pretty  accurate as it shows a six minute walk to my gate. Before I can go there I have to go back 'outside' to check my bag. Out through immigration and customs, check the bag, then back 'inside' again. It's kind of funny to get the stamps in my passport for only waking a few hundred feet, but that's how it works. Again, no problems for a Yotel customer...they've heard it all before.

I've got time to kill so I walked, avoiding the moving sidewalks. It seems it's a mile to my gate. I pass a few gift shops, finally decide to stop in one for water. The clerk was quite helpful, asking if I was going to drink the water 'now or later?' Later being the case, as in during my flight, she would have to wrap it – seal it – for transport into the plane. I went back to the cooler to get two smaller bottles instead of the huge one I had. Ended up getting a medium sized one, also. Visiting the gift shop was a good excuse to pick up a small souvenir for Olga, as well. Next time through I'll get souvenirs here for my kids. Maybe. They already have plenty of chocolate from this trip. Plus, I just can't rationalize, even to myself, paying $25 for a t-shirt with 'Amsterdam' printed on it. Net.

It's a two hour wait at the gate. I sit, read, take a few tourist photos of the plane and listen to American dialects as the area fills with fellow travelers. Screening time. I had to ditch the medium sized water bottle. The security officer was very apologetic about it. Everything was cool as I explained I'd planned it that way, showing her my sealed bag. I received praise for my planning. Once in a while I do have a good idea or two.

Ok everybody, prepare to ROTFLYAO! I try not to pass up opportunities to prepare for long trips, whether it's just 15 minutes, or in this case, eight and a half hours of confinement in a plane.  I spy the restrooms and decide it's a good time for a pit stop. OMG OMG OMG!!! It's true! There really is a fly imbedded in the urinals. OMG! Here I am, world traveler, seen it, done it, been around the block a few times, hardened to the ways of the world and people, and I fall for this without even thinking. Yep, you guessed it! Aimed right for it. Nailed it! Damn thing just wouldn't wash down. OMG! again. I've been had. Truly had. No, people I was not drunk. It's a good thing I was alone because I was laughing so hard I dropped my camera on the floor. I HAD to get a photo. OMG!

In case, dear readers, you don't know what I'm talking about, someone, somewhere in the administrative labyrinth of Amsterdam's municipal management, with or without committee, decided to embed the image of a fly in urinals to prompt users of said fixture to shoot for the fly instead of aimlessly creating a mess for others to suffer. It works. BTW, I'm not the first to write about this, as I have read numerous accounts, but I think it deserves its fair mention here.

I'm glad I checked my bag. Passengers stuffed the overhead compartments. Some were not happy, having to search for inconvenient places to put their bags, such as in another section. As with the flight East, I didn't see any empty seats. Once we got to cruising altitude it was the same routine: drinks & dinner. I passed on the wine this time as I didn't want to sleep. Dinner was good, even for airline food. I got the last pasta as I wasn't interested in rubber chicken. It may not have been that bad, I just didn't want to chance it. LCD screens on the seat back headrests. Individual choices for movies, music or tv shows. Nice. To top that, my earbuds fit the plug in the armrest. I listened in comfort.

Eight and a half hours of flying bliss. I kept myself occupied with music, a movie-The A-Team and writing notes. As soon as we're on the ground in Detroit, out come the cell phones. Totally unreal. Hmph. I take my time again, as I've got a couple of hours until the last flight. I'm a little cramped and sore from the waist down, so I hoof it. Feels good to stretch. And as before, I checked in early, so my bag was early in the plane and next to last off.

I enjoy standing in the immigration line, still flexing and stretching to get the kinks out of my backside and legs. I had dutifully filled out the immigration & customs form we received during the flight. I  made a mistake by checking 'no' on food purchased abroad and changed it to 'yes', with my initials next to the marks. Not a big deal, I wasn't trying to hide anything. I was questioned about that and the vodka at immigration. All ok with the officer, but I did get 'selected' for further screening at customs. Guess he misunderstood my wonderful penmanship where I declared the 0.8l of alcohol. He asked where I put the eight liters of vodka. I followed the blue line as directed, sans passport, to the inspection point. The officers were in a good mood. Of course politeness on my part helps, I believe. We chatted, they checked my passport, which had been hand carried by another officer, and then came the 'big reveal'. Another non-event. He checked the four 200ml (0.8l) bottles of vodka and the chocolates. Everything was good. On to the last gate.

Or so I thought. After clearing Immigration and Customs, I headed to my gate, but had to pass through another security checkpoint, even though I hadn't been 'outside' yet. I headed for the airline counter to check my bag, but was waved on toward the security checkpoint. Whoops. Seems the person that so 'helpfully' waved me on didn't consider I might have things that wouldn't make it through the scanners. Yeah, the vodka. I put all my junk on the conveyor belt and in the tub, and then asked the TSA security officer about my bag, as it was being scanned, of course. I told him I was waved on, but really needed to check it. After the bag was scanned and received a very thorough review, I was allowed to take it back to where it should have gone. It was just a drop off since it was already checked to OKC. I went back through the checkpoint again. The TSA people were really nice about everything, letting me step ahead of a few people since I'd already been through the line.

I finally turned on my cell phone. I had expected a few messages and calls. No disappointment there. It finally quit beeping and chiming after five minutes. Ok, I really didn't miss this part of my life. First a call to my kids, then my chauffeur. Finally two friends that were keeping track of me and looking after my house & pets. Kids are fine, cats are alive, friends are good. I'm in the mood to walk again to stretch.

Of course it's another multi-hour wait for my flight. I know I've mentioned this before, I don't mind the wait. At every airport during my trip, I've seen at least two or three couples and individuals rushing through the terminal. I just don't need or want that kind of stress.

Almost home. Loading into the plane is a non-event. Only a two and a half hour flight this time. Snacks and drinks. Good enough for me since I'm getting tired and don't feel like eating a meal. On final approach to Oklahoma City, I don't see a thing I recognize from the air. Touchdown and taxi are quite routine by now. Side note: no more white knuckle flying now. I'm good.

Last bag off the plane. It worked out well as I'd advised my chauffeur of a 9:30 pm arrival but didn't expect my bag until 10 pm. I was off by five minutes, so I sat outside breathing Okie air. My chariot arrived and we headed to the house. I'm stayed in town since I had to be up at five am for work. No chance for sleep until midnight thirty – all wound up telling stories about the trip. Ugh. It's gonna suck getting up. Good thing I've got some NoDoz left.


-30-

[mobob]

Trip Report – Epilogue

It's been about a month (written in November)  since my return. I survived. I've gone back to my life; she's returned to hers. The world continues to turn. Olga and I chat almost daily in Skype, with a new addition - text messaging, mostly on my part. Already pretty good, I think, her English skills continue to improve. My Russian... well, I still need lots of practice. Occasionally I get a short chat with Alex and Pusya, the cat.

Alex introduced UNO to his friends. I guess he really does like it, so I'm sending two more decks. Although Olga  protested, I plan to send gifts for the New Year, as that's when I understand the traditional gift exchange occurs. I'm not trying to overdo gifts, but do want to make a good impression by observing traditions and customs.

So... My gifting includes a package Olga received and opened last night. Contents were the trinket I'd gotten her at Shiphol – before the 'fly incident', and some knee high socks – I thought they would be appreciated since winter approaches. For Alex... about 20 feet of crime scene tape, the real stuff, something every teenage boy can find somewhere useful to apply. I've heard plans he might use it at his school. I expect someone will probably get a phone call from the administration.

Souvenirs have been delivered. The individual chocolates went to my kids, minus a few for me. The bars I have kept. Yum! I've only eaten two, the others I am saving, mostly as keepsakes. My youngest son keeps asking when he can eat one.

Olga sent one grivna coins commemorating 65 years since the Great War. My kids each got one; I have one or two since I have family ties to WWII. I cleaned her out of her small change, just because I thought it would be interesting to have some. I've got 2, 5, 10 and 25 kopek coins, as well as some regular one grivna coins. I also hit the exchange window in the domestic terminal in Kyiv to to see if they would take a $20 bill and get a few Ukraine bills for souvenirs. No problem, but it was a crisp bill.

The vodka... Four tiny bottles. I kept one. The others were parceled out to friends. My chauffeur, Faye, has the first bottle. Like mine, it sits on a shelf. The next one went to my friend who looked after my place and fed my cats while I was gallivanting around the world. Last I heard, he's hiding it from his wife so he can sneak a snort sometime when she's not looking. I'm a bad influence. The last and largest bottle went to my dear friend Beau, as a souvenir of my trip and birthday present. We broke the seal October 23. I'm not a vodka drinker, but I took one for the team as we each downed a shot. WOW! It was smooth, cough cough cough. Really, it was. But that's the strongest smooth I've ever swallowed. Only one for me. Beau had four more shots; each one knocked him into his chair. He has allowed that upon my next trip, he expects a larger bottle.

What does the future hold? We got along well, I'd characterize us as compatible. I'm negotiating my next visit for April. I'd prefer sooner, much sooner, like New Years' or Orthodox Christmas, but it really isn't practical. For us, seven days was a good introduction trip. By April I'll have enough vacation for a longer stay. I've suggested a bit of travel, perhaps meet in Kyiv and go from there.

-30-

[mobob]

Oops. Guess I need to learn how to post photos... back shortly to do this.

[Gator]

Mobob,

I look forward to reading this.  I don't have the time now, but a quick scan says it will be a good read.  Thanks.

[KevinD]

Good trip report. Thanks for posting. I look forward to your April trip report.

[Faux Pas]

mobob Good stuff! Thanks for posting it

[The Natural]

Very good travel report, I've read it all with pleasure. Good language and writing style. Hope for more from you mobob.

 

[Muzh]

Mobob,

I look forward to reading this.  I don't have the time now, but a quick scan says it will be a good read.  Thanks.

Gator, it is worth the reading. John is a good writer.

Now, where are them pics? That I haven't seen.

[Hammer2722]

I definitely agree! A really well written and entertaining trip report! Pictures! 

[tim 360]

Trip Report – Epilogue

What does the future hold? We got along well, I'd characterize us as compatible. I'm negotiating my next visit for April. I'd prefer sooner, much sooner, like New Years' or Orthodox Christmas, but it really isn't practical. For us, seven days was a good introduction trip. By April I'll have enough vacation for a longer stay. I've suggested a bit of travel, perhaps meet in Kyiv and go from there.

-30-

Great trip report mobob, thanks for posting.  April return trip?  I guess you will soon be going back soon?

[Chicagoguy]

Wow !  Such detail. How do you remember it all ? Hope all goes as well on next trip !

[mobob]

Photos

TR-0020  Flying over Newark, New Jersey, approaching JFK.

 

TR-0025  Wendy's in JFK saved the day! The lady on the right was complaining
about 'stupid foreign tourists taking photos of a restaurant in the airport'.
I didn't have the heart to say anything, or maybe I was being smart not to.

 

TR-0026  Sunset east of JFK. Somewhere down there is blue water.

 

TR-0028 UKRAINE! Approach to Kyiv-Borispol. Hmmm... Looks kinda like farmland anywere.

 
TR-0030, 0031 Donetsk International Airport.

TR-0033  Your protagonist and author.

 

TR-0061  Olga, our heroine, prepares a dish for the big meal. I was only to
watch and eat. No work allowed.

 

TR-0060  Alex pitches in by preparing a salad.

 

TR-0066  The Feast. L to R, Alex, Olga, Me, her sister Irina, her Father Vladimir.
The first of many toasts. At his left is his homemade wine. Good stuff!
After a bit of initial timidity, great conversation ensued. Alas, poor Olga
was kept quite busy translating. Evidently I made great compliment to
her cooking as I asked for seconds on most dishes... and thirds, too.

[mobob]

TR-0070  Dessert. It looks small... Don't let that fool you. This think is PACKED
with sugar. I thought I was the chocolate and sweets master. Not.
I couldn't finish my piece; I couldn't eat the rest of it until the next day.

 

TR-0110  Alex enjoyed my 'emergency rations', a box of Bumble Bee Tuna
Salad and crackers. I left OKC with several boxes, returned with one.

 

TR-0111  Let the games begin! We started with UNO, after, of course, great
explanation of the rules. Thus begins my practical language lessons in Russian.
Numbers and colors. Great hilarity permeated our first game at Alex's expense.
 He was slammed many times, forgetting to announce 'один' - one - uno - on his
last card. Ultimately, Olga beat me by one point.

 

TR-0114  On to greater challenges...Scrabble, which I later learned is Olga's favorite
of the two games, for the challenge. In this the challenge was great, as the
rules needed much explaining, mainly the concept of word combinations and
the requirement that a word be spelled in directions left to right and top to
bottom. At my suggestion, we got out a dictionary, quite against the rules,
for Alex to find words in English, before he would place tiles on the board.

 

Olga, on the other hand, did not require the dictionary, only time to
contemplate her next move. To my good fortune, I am lucky we did
not play chess, as I totally suck. I took it kind of easy on them, sticking
to easy words, thinking I had an unfair advantage. As it was, she beat
me, again, and with a much greater margin than UNO. Ashamedly, I will
not divulge the point spread.

Day trip to Donetsk.

 

TR-0125  McDonald's, that great bastion of American cuisine. Alas, I could
not find it my heart to dine there, but like the ever typical tourist,
I just had to have a photo. Actually, it looked rather nice inside,
much nicer than I've ever seen inside a stateside one, but still
couldn't bring myself to cross that threshold.

It also served me as a landmark, having seen it upon my arrival,
this day, and again upon my departure.

 

TR-0130  I was quite amazed to see a 24hour drive through.


 

TR-0128  Ah... we must be in a civilized city - they have icre cream trucks.

 

TR-0131  Yep, it's a statue. Fyodor Sergeyev. I have yet to properly learn
Ukrainian history, so I can't speak much about him. There is a
Wiki page on him.

 

TR-0135  I must admit to taking tourist photos in a few places.

 

TR-0136  Another touristy photo... or not. At first I just wanted a photo of
Olga in front of the nice gazebo. Then she had me look closer and
I noticed all the padlocks. She explained a great many weddings
take place in this park on Saturdays. The locks are put on the
gazebo, or some of the other iron sculptures, such as the lock
in the nose of a pig.

[mobob]

TR-0143  Cupid atop the gazebo. Yes, those are padlocks hanging from his bow and arrow. I
suppose the clock, although a bit off time, indicates it's time for love.

Donetsk Day Trip - continued

 

TR-0150  Having missed breakfast, quite unusual for me since I don't like
to miss a meal, I was very hungry. It was also a good time to
get inside due to rain, hence no photo of the little cafe where
we dined. But who cares what the outside looks like? I'm more
interested in the food.

 

TR-0151  It was a small cafe with about 15 tables and booths. All I really
cared was to stay dry and eat. And rest my legs a bit more. Lunch
was good. We had a nice variety to choose from, and got so much
I couldn't finish everything. That is Coke in the cooler, although I
opted for tea, something close to bottled Nestea, I think. With all we
had for lunch, it only came to about 80 grivnas, about $10. Added
benefit of the cafe - it had a toilet. 'nuff said.

 

TR-0152  My excuse for this photo... I just had to take a picture to show my
buddies back home, because there's no way I'm going to bring
something like this back, let alone even attempt to get it through
Customs. NET! I have received comments that it is legal to bring these back... I don't want the trouble.

This was our last stop of the day as the rain would slow, then return
in torrents. We (translated I) were somewhat tired and ready to rest.


TR-1054  Pusya, Olga's cat. A mark of acceptance that she (Pusya) allowed
me to pet her. The borscht is mine. I only stopped eating for a few
moments for the cat. The bowl was emptied, refilled and emptied
again. I don't remember now, but it's quite possible I had thirds.
As I had to explain to Olga, I really do enjoy her cooking. It was
not flattery or outright hunger that I ate her cooking. I really
enjoy it. And I must admit, I felt rather proud of myself to have
made a good impression. Oh, yes... The bottle there was the last
of Vladimir's red wine.

 

TR-0164  Alex and friends Nikita and Vlad. Still stuck on the theory of presenting gifts,
I had what I thought might be a novel approach - earplugs! I'd already given
a set to Alex, so he knew what to do with them. With Olga's help I explained
my reason for presenting such a strange gift: they are to use the earplugs
when they don't want to hear their parents. Having two teenagers I know there
can be times they may not want to hear a parent. Gifts received with great laughter.

 

TR-0168  Final dinner preparation. вареники - vareniky. As mentioned earlier,
I was allowed to help prepare this dish. Initially this was only to
cook potatoes, but with permission and close adult supervision, I was
allowed to try my hand at the process. Olga rolls out dough balls into
little pancakes.

 

TR-0172  It seemed really quite easy. Fill the little dough pancake...

 

TR-0173  Pinch it closed...

 

TR-0175  These pretty specimens are not mine. What sits on the table, quite
misshapen and scrawny, are my creations. Since her hands were
covered in flour, Olga couldn't pat me on the head and say 'Good boy',
so she just smiled encouragement and allowed me to continue.

[mobob]

TR-0179  Into the pot. This I can do. It was quite easy to distinguish hers from
mine. Mine sunk and then somewhat disintegrated. Fortunately these
were put first into the dish, as later my skills improved and hid these
first attempts.

Departure from Ukraine.

 

TR-0196  Waiting for the bus. It seemed a bit overcast and gloomy for my departure.
Honestly, I really didn't want to leave. The first bus going to Donetsk was
packed, so we waited for another. The next bus wasn't full, but wasn't heading
for my destination. As luck would have it, and I was getting a little nervous
I wouldn't make it to the terminal in time, we got a taxi ride.


 

TR-0201  On the way, still playing toursit, I couldn't resist a photo through the windshield.
Wow, Oktoberfest is pretty big in this part of the world, too. Later I came
to discover it was the 200th anniversary of the beer drinking fest.


 

TR-0203  Roman, our taxi driver. Our great fortune, not only did he get us to Donetsk, but
right to the terminal. My fears of missing my plane were quite unfounded. He
had us there before 10 am. My flight wasn't until 12:35.

 

TR-0210  Outside the front of the International terminal at KBP, facing toward the Domestic
terminal. People watching is a hoot! Above the noise I could hear at least two
voices hawking for their drivers. Someone on the forum has pointed out the
hawkers are for bus tours. I had thought for taxis. No matter to me, I couldn't
understand a word.

 

TR-0211  Yet another typical toursit photo, but I just had to have it. Beyond the cars lies
the rest of Ukraine. Kyiv is somewhere out there. I'd only glanced briefly in
this direction on my arrival, hustling to the Domestic terminal lest I miss the
four hour wait for my connection.

On the way home.

 Shiphol Airport, Amsterdam. Yotel, my lodging, and shameless, uncompensated plug. The
room was everything I could have asked for. Photos used with permission.

 
YOTEL01  A typical hallway.

 

YOTEL03  Floor layout. It is really quite small, but all I needed was a shower and rest.

 

YOTEL02 A typical single sized bed. I was very fortunate that mine was a lower bunk.
Underneath is another bunk, but for the room next door. Note the shower
head. It's about 12 inches on a side. LOTS of hot water.

Shameless plug: Yotel was quiet, better than most hotels I've stayed at,
including many $200 + a night places I've suffered. The bed was comfortable,
not too hard, not too soft... just right. Easy and quick access, check in and
check out. TV was good. There were outlets for 110 and 220 voltage, as
well as WIFI, but I didn't bring a laptop this trip. I could have tried using
my iPhone, but I was too afraid of the outrageous fees I would have
been charged.

 

TR-0213  Killing time in one of the shops. Plenty of snacks to be had. I never
expected to see Pringles here.

[mobob]

TR-0214  Or Snickers and Twix.

 
 

The fly. TR -217, 217A

I laughed so hard I dropped my camera on the floor. I consider myself
lucky no one saw me taking photos in a restroom. Kinda strange, one might
think.

Souvenirs and stuff

 

TR-0224  Got these at one of the underground kiosks on our day trip to Donetsk. At only
2 grivna each, it was a good buy.

 

TR-0230  Faye, my chauffeur, got first pick.

 

TR-0229  Does anyone know? Did she win anything? I'm guessing not. Still, it's a fun
souvenir.

 

TR-0243  The Vodka. Four bottles safely made the trip back, but only these two had a
chance in front of the camera. I've kept the one on the right as a personal
memento. The one on the left...

 

TR-0245  Went to this guy, my friend Beau. It's well that we got a photo of him and
the bottle before sampling the spirits. He did the honors of setting up the
shots. After proper salutes to all things great and wonderful, including my
safe journey and return, we tossed 'em back. Words will never come close
to describing the experience. Smooth, it was. Rocket fuel, it was, too. I
restricted myself to one. I had to drive home. Even after the first one almost
knocked him down, it did make him sit a while, he eventually had four shots.
At last report there's a little left in the bottle. As written in my report, he has
allowed I may bring more upon returning from my next trip.

 

TR-4805  Bus tickets from our day in Donetsk. Each is one grivna, a small price for a
bus ride. Very important to have handy when the ticket inspector begins checking
for these, after the bus starts moving, of course.