Sweet, Delicious Neo-Conservative Tears. November 24, 2008

04.Nov.08

Arriving in Kiev was like jumping from Winter to Summer (not that I don’t love spring), except it is still ass cold here. Kiev seems by far more civilized and familiar than East Ukraine. We arrived way too early and made the mistake of going to McDonalds for breakfast, which they didn’t even serve (see I told you Ukraine is backwards, no egg or sausage McMuffins). I hate McDonalds, especially in other countries. They try so hard to be a “cool” hangout place with flat screen TVs everywhere playing “cool” pop & rap music videos, which are all just scantily clad women, big cars, gangsta’s (there is a differentiation between gangsters), and jewelry thrown into a blender of lights, and stupid lyrics; how can anyone older than 8 find this amusing? Plus I always feel nauseous after eating the food and the WiFi never works; suck it Ronald.

We picked up the stuff we left at the Peace Corps office, and then headed to a very nice part of the city where we shot up a less than terrifying Soviet elevator into a super nice apartment Andrea got for us from a professional Babushka (old ladies seem to run this country huh?). Feeling out of touch with the world I plopped into a nearby café where I sat using the WiFi internet for the next few hours while Andrea and Jess went to go looking at boots and clothes. It is difficult to spot a Ukranian female without boots, and I think all the clippity-clop of their walking got Jess & Andrea wanting to buy a pair. I had done a lot of blog and picture work when they came back empty handed, shoes are just as expensive here, might as well wait untill home.

Tonight we had a few more housemates sharing the floor and splitting the cost with us. We went out to dinner with them, which took an unnecessarily long time to get food to the table. Jess & I couldn’t help but notice how serving Peace Corps in Ukraine has gotten in some of these people’s heads, unless they were already a bit crazy to begin with (you might have to be to drop everything and live in the middle of nowhere for over two years). I was having a bit of trouble getting along with them as I tend to be quite free with my speech and topics of conversation, but one guy in particular was as sensitive and as easily annoyed as a beehive in a bear den. The night didn’t end very well, and Jess and I began to sympathize with Andrea who for so long has socialized with only loopy American companions, and Ukrainians who can be, well, Ukrainians. We are sure she will be as good as new when she gets back to sunny California with all its smiles and joy, but for now…well, can’t we all just get along?

05.Nov.08

We woke up around 4am to drag our asses five blocks to the Hyatt where the US ambassador was holding an election party. All sorts of people showed up; there was delicious (and free!) food served, and the room was buzzing with excitement. When we caught the news earlier in the morning it looked like it was all wrapped up for Obama, but McCain’s losing speech (involving plenty of poor-sport booing) and then Obama’s victory speech gave us all massive smiles (well not the neo-cons in the crowd, but no one cares about them). We even met a lot of Republicans who were happy with the outcome, good times had by all. For the first time this whole trip, we feel proud to be Americans abroad.

Andrea’s feet were about to fall off from the high heels she usually never wears (and shouldn’t ever wear, what silly contraptions), so we went back to the house to change then celebrated by walking around Kiev soaking up the city. There was an unusual number of police out today, we thought because of our elections maybe, but found out that the price of the city metro was raised from the minuscule 10 cents a ride to a staggering 2 Hrivnia (32 cents) a ride. In past years people have rioted, but they seem pretty complacent; the Metro system could barely function with so little income, so it is a good thing.

We changed at the apartment then walked around the city a bit. Kiev is beautiful, steeped in very complex history being tossed back and forth between vying religions and nations, experiencing many massacres by those nations. However, the city has done very well to modernize; towering cathedrals topped with gold snuggled near massive underground malls, local markets, statues galore, and a really cool street performer in the underground walkways dressed as a traditional Cossack. (Cossacks are the equivalent to American cowboys; nomadic, spartan, defending the borderlands of Ukraine. Like true cowboys however they only exist in shows, and underground walkways).

We stopped at an Irish pub for a beer with some new PVC’s. Most of the volunteers we have met thus far have been quite young, but these three were all in their 50’s. They were all very sweet and had a much different perspective than the youngins’, one in particular, Norma, was a riot. She was overflowing bilge buckets of emotion in front of the Pub TV at images she had seen ten times already of those excited kids in Kenya cheering for Obama, the repeated shot of the weepy-eyed Jesse Jackson, etc. Maybe she was a little too excited as if she could reach through the screen every time it showed Obama and give him a huge hug; gotta love her though.

We then chilled at the apartment until night (which is around 5pm), then celebrated at a very nice French restaurant over some wine, steak tartar, and ratatouille. The city by night is almost more extraordinary than by day with the statues all lit up and glowing. It has been a good day for us, and the world.

06.Nov.08

Andrea had some business in the PC office, so Jess and I went to a nice Ukrainian art exhibit. We were surprised at the Ukrainians depiction of Jesus and Mary; most European art disregards history and depicts them as white Europeans, but Ukrainian Orthodoxy depicts them as Middle Eastern. It makes sense since long ago Ukraine chose to adopt Greek Orthodoxy, as opposed to the Italian Catholic neighbors. All in all, the exhibit was nice, though nothing extraordinary compared too the many exquisite art exhibits we have seen in the last couple months.

The Siberian winds are moving in today so our noses are red and runny all the time. We met with Andrea at the apartment and went to explore more orthodox churches up close. As aforementioned Kiev has been tossed around between its surrounding kingdoms (Poland, RUSSIA, Armenia, Turkey, Hungary, etc) for its entire history. Kiev used to be a city full of diversity and wealth, but has been substantially reduced through war, communism, and corruption. There are thankfully some very impressive ancient structures still standing.

We spent the rest of the day keeping warm inside bars, our apartment, and a café to use internet.

07.Nov.08

We took a trip on the Metro out to a very impressive set of churches and an underground labyrinth of worship. Orthodox architects tend to think that building more bulbous golden domes makes the church more important. Having lots of gold bulbs looks nice enough, though they do all start to look about the same. It doesn’t seem that most religions really make an effort to support individualism or diversity anyway anyway (as also noticed by the ten thousand paintings of Mary and naked baby we have seen in the last two months!!!)

In the distance stood a massive statue of a woman with sword and shield standing atop a WWII bunker turned museum. We do not have time to visit however, so instead Jess and Andrea were forced to put on goofy skirt things (it is Holy) and we descended into the holiest of Orthodox catacombs in Ukraine. It was a bit spooky down there at first, but remarkably beautiful. So many Ukrainians came to light beeswax candles and make prayer to dead saints lying in gold leafed caskets. With no lighting but candles, the shadows of the faithful flickered off the walls all around us. It was a nice experience.

We made our way out and back to the city where at a supermarket we stocked up on cheap Ukrainian vodka as souvenirs and to give as gifts to our next hosts. We said our goodbyes to Andrea, headed back into train city and caught our night ride to the Ukraine/Hungarian border.

Kiev Flickr Photos:

http://flickr.com/photos/flufflebuns/sets/72157608766355126/

Shades of Gray November 21, 2008

31.Oct.08

We said farewell to Andrea’s little town Bubnivska Slovidka and boarded a Marshutka (for the new readers; a bus type thing) back to Kiev (thankfully without a smelly Babushka this time). There simply isn’t much to write about today because we just killed time in the city. Met with some friends of Andrea, sat at some bars, ate pizza, planned for our next few days, walked around a lot, and that is about it, nothing special. There was little evidence that today millions of people would roam the streets covered in blood & faerie wings searching for candy. An occasional pair of anorexic looking girls would walk by in tight mini-skirt, halter top, high heels, with far too much make-up and crowned in devils horns. This however, is something completely usual for Ukraine, aside from the devil horns (which many Ukrainians probably mistake for Jew horns; oh silly Ukraine). One bar we went to had a joke-telling Dracula, but the jokes were only funny if you spoke Russian I suppose because we weren’t laughing.

Ukrainian trains are quite a few steps up from our experiences with Indian trains, yet much more reasonably priced than other European train systems. The Kiev train station is a behemoth structure more similar to an airport, more like its own city. This is the one truly great legacy leftover from communist times; train stations, awesome train stations. So we lugged our bags passed the endless line of terminals and found our comfy niche where we whipped out a few beers to enjoy over chat, then slept, practically forgetting that for so many years on this day we would be surrounded by a pile of candy about now.

01.Nov.08

Babushkas stand outside train stations offering their apartments for cash. Occasionally this method might force old people to bear the freezing cold on the streets for your money, but hey, it isn’t winter yet and this is one of the cheaper forms of accommodation and Andrea’s plan for Dnipropetrovsk. What happens when there are none there however, and we have nowhere to stay? That was something we left our Ukraine professional Andrea to figure out. Luckily we bumped into a Peace Corps volunteer for this region, Justin. We all headed to the US “embassy” to game plan ( our “embassy” is actually a really delicious diner with WiFi and cheap, hearty buffet food; Puzata Kchata). Justin became a fast friend, and amused us with hysterical stories of his time in Ukraine. He helped us secure a place to stay with another PCV and we went out to wander the city.

The East is always described as industrial and depressing. More so in dead winter I suppose because the streets are littered with passed out drunk (sometimes dead) Dadushkas and shivering Babushkas struggling to stay alive. It is not winter however and aside from the occasional woman doing crack out of a broken light bulb in front of uncaring police outside the train station, and the massive industrial facilities outside the city, it isn’t a bad place to hang out. Our boogers certainly weren’t near as black as they were in India.  Dnipropetrovsk has parks, ponds, a river, cute shops, and tons of statues (mostly of communist “heroes” and Shevchenko, who was a peasant author important enough to have statues all over every city, even though his image always looks like he want to rape you with huge handlebar mustache). There is a big golden ball made of glass, mostly broken and covered in graffiti with a church in the background along the river. And that is about all in the city.

After some Hare Krishna lunch (I know, we were surprised they are here too) Justin left to hop on a train somewhere and we met with our PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) host Seth. Seth took us and his friends to another park with a crumbling circus building and a lake with sad looking swan boats, then got really excited about the prospect of drinking Guinness at an Irish pub. So that’s what we did (he doesn’t come to the city often, and spends his time isolated in his nearby village, Guinness was perhaps a little too exciting to him).

Soon we were on a Marshutka heading to Seth’s village for the night. Walking from the bus stop to his house felt much more like Halloween night than the last, but apparently was just a normal weekend night.  Teenage “ghouls” dressed in tight black clothes wandered the streets, a crowd of them hung outside the villages “club,” if you call a community center with scratchy speakers set up blasting techno a club. To the left, a 13 year old boy with a bottle of vodka in hand, to the right, a couple kids in the bushes doing who knows what, and every single eye turned to us three strangers carrying large backpacks and looking about as out of place as a diabetic in a chocolate factory. Making our way clear of the gauntlet of youths we came to Seth’s mansion of a house. Every PCV has to figure out their own housing if they choose not to live with their hosts & most don’t want to live with them anymore after their first month or so of forced drinking and eating to excess every day by their hosts who mean well. Seth got lucky, and a family who have a summer home in his town let him use it for free in the off seasons, all he has to do is pay for utilities. Parts of the house reminded me of Fight Club, with rusting, stained, and smelly bathroom, but it was cozy enough and we had a nice night eating pears off the trees and a light pasta dinner.

02.Nov.08

In the morning we headed back through the now less intimidating city, past the big bright blue orthodox church, on a Marshutka back to DP then a bus to Zaporizhzhya, another industrial, gray city.

Why do we keep torturing ourselves by going to these dreary places? The answer is simple, in 2½ years in Ukraine Andrea has been to all but two Oblasts (states), about to end her service, we are accompanying her for the final two. It isn’t so bad, we meet some cool people along the way, and get to experience how many humans in the world truly live (the “real” Ukraine if you will), as opposed to all the fairy tale places we have visited in the last 11 months of travel. While waiting to meet our new PCV host Elizabeth for the night I sit at our American embassy (Puzata Kchata again) with the bags, while Jess & Andrea get some food for cooking tonight.

Elizabeth greets us with a huge smile, happy to have guests to break her usual isolation. We get to know her stories and some info about the area (not much to tell) while Marshutka hopping to her tiny piece of the world. At first glance it is dark (probably because it is night time) and bland town with one big road and massive, gray blocks pooped out like dominoes by communist dictators as “The People’s Habitats.” I wouldn’t force criminals to live in some of these places, but surprisingly once up the crumbling tenement stairs, Elizabeth’s apartment is actually quite nice and cozy made all the better with a super cute, neurotic cat with a worse sense of agility than a slug. Open a door, you hit the cat in the face, step backwards, you step on it’s tail, walk through the tiny hallway, it just stands in your way like a deer in headlights.

We hung out in the living room over plates of a pasta, chicken, veggie thing we whipped up. Andrea gave advice on how Elizabeth is to keep her sanity through her first horrific winter, and Elizabeth, with Chicago accent, and I talked about super nerdy books, games, and shared theatre stories. Then we slept on couch, bed, and floor.

03.Nov.08

The town seemed equally as dark & dreary as in the night as in the morning. We said goodbye to Elizabeth and two more Marshutka rides later we were in a still depressing city Zaporizhzhya again. Taking a tram from the bus station we passed more tenement blocks and big factories to have it all open up for another fantastic looking train station; Communists had their priorities. After some time fighting with the attendant for service (difficult to come by here) Andrea got two very old CCCP coins to use on the once modern, now decrepit lockers. We stored our bags, bought tickets for another night train to Kiev and got back on the tram through more gray buildings.

We walked all day and the highlights were some very muddy looking fountains surrounded by the largest gray tenement blocks we have ever seen, a man dressed in a horse costume, a massive statue of Lenin, and this lady:

Honestly, that is about it, plus Andrea and I worked on our communication skills, both coming from vastly different experiences the last two years, we have had trouble getting along all the time. Like all the PCV’s we have met, the isolation and strange, often backwards Ukraine culture soak into the brain and turn the person a little socially awkward and sensitive at times. Coming from so many pixie and lollipop lands, I see the world through rose colored glasses, while Andrea’s glasses have become tinted gray. I can see from her perspective how I can be annoying; yet Jess manages to be neutral and pleasant as always. We quickly reconciled our differences over pizza as I promised not to speak in English so loudly in public for Andrea’s fear of us getting stabbed for being foreigners, and that I wouldn’t whistle indoors because they believe you’ll whistle your money away, and that I won’t look people in the eyes, or smile too often…bummer.

Soon it was night and we were in a position where I didn’t want to do any of those things. We walked through a park right out of some post-apocalypse Stanley Kubrik film. Metal trash cans licked flames in the air, surrounded by rough looking men wearing black leather and drinking straight Vodka, their shadows flickering through the blackness only from the fires light. An ever burning flame set in concrete to some communist “hero” had been covered with dead, gray branches and dry leaves to make a warm bonfire in the frosty night. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the origination of the word Bonfire; bone fire, a fire hot enough to turn human flesh, muscle, and bone to ash within three hours (depending on how fat you are). We put on our best soviet faces and walked very briskly through the anarchy to a supermarket on the other side where we got food for another Ukrainian tradition; train picnic! We went to the station and got our bags where we met a dog that some cruel individual had drawn eyeliner on, weird.

Waiting in the train station we sat next to a Babushka reading the bible and doing the catholic ‘Hail Mary’ thing really fast & multiple times every page, we got a kick out of it. Then we were on our night train to Kiev digging into a whole chicken enjoyed with some local brew. Spots of chicken grease still on hands and face we slept soundly in our bunk beds.

E. Ukraine Flickr Photos:

http://flickr.com/photos/flufflebuns/sets/72157608768478419/

Dancing with Babushkas! November 11, 2008

If you saw someone wearing a headscarf and complimented them saying, oh what a cute Babushka on your head, you would be telling them they had a cute Grandmother on their head. The colorful headscarf is something that stereotypical Soviet Babushkas wear on their heads in Ukraine (and Russia). Certainly warmth is one reason for the headscarf, and it can also signify being a widow, but many old Babushkas also wear the scarf over ears when they travel because they truly believe that while in a bus or train they will catch a draft from outside which will enter their brains through the aural cavity and kill them. Babushkas believe that vodka (in many forms) is the cure-all miracle drug, also if a woman sits on the sidewalk their ovaries will freeze, thus preventing childbearing which leads to a very short death. Many cling to Soviet ideals and worship Stalin while being very wary of anything modern or capitalist. They are fun to laugh at, but realistically these women have lived through some unbelievably difficult times, seen many people die, and barely survived a plethora of Siberian winters with little warmth or food. Their counterpart are Dadushkas, but most men from Soviet era have died, or you don’t see them as much because they are lying somewhere in a puddle of their own urine with an empty vodka bottle in hand. There were few Babushkas in Lviv, only some singing on street corners for money, but soon we’ll see many more firsthand.

27.Oct.08

We arrived in the massive, airport-like train station of Kiev then headed directly to the Peace Corps office. The office is six stories with a lounge area on top filled with volunteers waiting for buses or trains to their site after their weekend of traveling. We used internet and showered, then took the metro to a bus station outside the city. There are still some awesome things left over from Soviet times. The Metro for instance is simply unbelievably cheap and surprisingly efficient. For a one way token from anywhere to anywhere along any line it is only 50 copecs. (100 copecs is 1 Hrivnia and 6 Hrivnia is 1 dollar). So for $1 you could ride the metro lines 12 times!!! The government has tried raising the price a number of times, but everyone in the city simply riots, so the price has stayed the same for many years.

Next we were on a bright yellow Marshutka for a three hour journey to Andrea’s site Bubnivska Slovidka. At some point a babushka reeking of urine sat in front of us next to a poor young girl who became the old woman’s temporary psychologist for the next hour. We were dropped off in a small village with its 400 or so inhabitants. It was a short walk to Andrea’s traditional Kchata or ‘little house’ complete with functioning water pump as the only means of water, and a wooden outhouse with a simple hole in the ground. We didn’t stay long as we had dinner arrangements with Andreas counterpart Valentina. Valentina is a teacher with Andrea at the school and was the one who arranged for her to come to their specific village through Peace Corps. She had a delicious meal cooked for us, and though by this point she has had dozens of Americans visit while coming to see Andrea, she was very enthusiastic to chat with us in her perfect English.

Not completely spartan, Andrea’s Kchata has electricity and gas, so we had a warm and comfy night in her spare room after watching a few episodes of “Flight of the Conchords” on the computer.

28.Oct.08

We woke up to a call from Valentina mentioning that today is the weekly Babushka meeting at the town historical museum. We were welcomed with open arms by the ten motherly Babushkas in their bright colored bandanas to a massive buffet of home cooked food.

The meal was delicious; blood sausage, apples pickled in apricot and apple juice, chicken, some sort of sweet onion, red, and green peppers dish, and more home made moonshine than we could handle. Naturally being the male I got a shot of Semahon (the local brew) about three times the size as everyone else. I am no lightweight, but this shit could floor an elephant. We drank and ate merrily, made many cheers, and the meal was broken constantly by beautiful choral singing from the women. One woman sang of her husband being killed during the war and her left heartbroken and widowed in this village. Andrea did an awesome job translating everything for us. Soon they whipped out an accordion and I could not resist joining them in dancing. Having no idea what I was doing I certainly got many compliments for my leg stomping and flailing and I managed to get Andrea and Jess to join along. They turned nearby tools from the museum into instruments and we danced until I felt the blood sausage try to make its way back up my system.

After the whirlwind of insanity the Babushkas left to go home and do what they do all day, which is a mystery untold for centuries. The youngest Babushka Katarina Jakivna stayed behind and showed us the museum she managed. The museum showed traditional tools, school supplies, and a decorated living area, as well as documents from the World Wars and Soviet times. Katarina promised to stop by with food later; something that has kept Andrea very well fed over the last two years, Babushkas fighting each other to feed her.

Next Andrea showed us the school she taught at where we met Valentina again. The kids are on holiday, but they showed us the towns one computer with dial-up modem Andrea hooked up for them. The rest of the day was spent recovering from the morning onslaught of food and alchohol until Katarina stopped by with again more food than we knew what to do with! One great thing they all still do from Soviet times is food preservation! Katarina came with like eight jars filled with bell peppers, apricot/apple juice, fresh cow milk, beans, as well as jellied pork and Bleenchikies. Bleenchickies are dangerous because they are one of the more delicious deserts we have had, addictive as heroin, and certainly clog your arteries. They are basically sweet curd cheese with sugar, raisins, and a touch of love, wrapped in soft crepes, and soaked in some sort of sweet milk syrup, and flying pixie dust. I feel diabetic just describing the little devils. I cannot however express as much love for the mildly offensive jellied pork and chicken. When I say jellied I mean JELLIED,  like gelatin; made with ground hooves (yes, in case you didn’t know, the gelatin you eat in candies is almost definitely made with powdered horse, pig, or cow hooves; the more you know…!) When I say pork and chicken I mean all the parts including feet. bones, intestines, etc. It was surprisingly good, but we couldn’t manage to eat all of it.

After our unhealthy feast we just lounged about then fell fast asleep.

28.Oct.08

We started the morning with hot bucket baths in the kitchen. Having no proper shower we pumped water from the well, boiled it on the stove and took turns taking baths in a plastic tub in the middle of the kitchen! Andrea has been doing this for the last two years, pretty wild. Then we got picked up by a local driving in our desired direction and went to a very unique Ukrainian tradition museum. It is a very nice outdoor museum where traditional homes, churches, and forts are re-created in different era styles. The very basic Cossack huts were pretty awesome as well as the fort, and the decorations in the traditional homes are exquisite with dried herbs and hand woven red and white cloths draping the ceilings.

We spent a few hours exploring the museum then headed back to Andrea’s house where we cooked a small feast of Katarina’s food and just hung out.

29.Oct.08

The entire area surrounding the village is unbelievably picturesque. Andrea showed us the park she jogged through every day in winter during the meager hours of sunlight. She described her first winter here as teetering on a razor thin edge of insanity. Just a few hours of sunlight each day during which she would be in a classroom teaching. I imagine perpetual darkness would make one want to slit their wrists just to see color for once (maybe that is why Ukrainians are so fond of weaving in bright red). Andrea’s second winter was better because she exercised and ate many more fresh veggies though still had the deal with going to the outhouse everyday in well below freezing temperatures.

We explored the next village with rows and rows of incredibly quaint little homes. The highlight of the day was stumbling upon a gay cat and dog couple cuddling together. They were super cute and friendly, but maybe got a little too friendly with me; I have that effect on animals, I think they misinterpret my love and affection for a deeper meaning. We stopped by the market and Valentina’s house where we picked up all the ingredients needed for Borscht. Andrea gave us the recipe and went to do some work with Valentina while we slaved over the stove for hours making a super complex and awesome meal. As usual Jessica masterminded it while I chopped away and stirred; it came out quite perfect.

Andrea came home and was impressed with our first attempt at borscht; we ate drank, and became merry. It was a silly evening and Jessica and I started to understand a piece of Andrea’s semi-isolated life for the last couple of years, and how she came to hold regular dance parties for herself, by herself. The town is beautiful, there is a plethora of delicious food, the people are very friendly, but it is most definitely a much different way to live than she was used to, a big congrats to Andrea for surviving two years of peace corps out here!

Bubnivska Slovidka Flickr Photos:

http://flickr.com/photos/flufflebuns/sets/72157608608541142/

(Even if you have seen them, check out the pictures again, we recently added some more taken with Andrea’s camera).

A Theme for Descent. November 9, 2008

24.Oct.08.

The sun still hadn’t risen when we boarded the bus from Poland to Lviv, Ukraine. Our host Piotrek was kind enough to wake up so ridiculously early and drive us to the station. Crossing the border was not as difficult as everyone made it out to be. An armed guard came aboard checking for Contraband and after an hour or so wait we were officially in Ukraine! A kind English chap allowed us to use his phone to call Andrea on arrival and soon a she gave us a very friendly welcome. Andrea Ahlert is one of Jess’s best friends from high school and we haven’t seen her for 2½ years since she has been serving in Peace Corps Ukraine teaching English to kids in a small village outside Kiev.

Andrea briefed us about a few of the insanities of Ukraine while riding a Marshutka (city bus) into town. Most import rule of safety: don’t step in puddles, potholes, and especially manhole covers. It sounds like a joke, but her friend had recently stepped on a manhole cover only to find herself covered in human waste and stuck in a sewer for a longer time than desired (which is really any amount of time). We arrived to the city where we met a former English student of Andrea’s who allowed us to stay in his apartment. The very amiable Bukchdan (kch like in Kchutzpah) is one of the outwardly gayest people we have ever met (meaning we love him right away). He only survives in such a horrifically homophobic society because Ukrainians are so delusional to think that there simply are no gay men in Ukraine. Moreover, many straight men in this part of the world dress like the 6^th member of N’Sync, so Buckhdan doesn’t have an issue blending in.

Imagine the most stereotypical soviet apartment block you can fathom. Big gray cubes in rows, clothes draping out the windows, surrounded by dead trees; this is what we pulled up to. Terrified for our very lives we boarded the dilapidated Soviet elevator; clinking and clanking slowly upwards we would have prayed to a deity if we had one. After dropping off our bags we headed back down the stairs this time. We then learned Bukchdan’s (and many other Ukrainian’s) favorite pastime, one we haven’t experienced since our days in Asia; Ghettoblasting. Full volume on his little cell phone he blasted one of the many new pop songs plaguing the world today. Sung by some half-talent diva, the lyrics begin “I kissed a girl, I liked it;” this would now become our theme for descending flights of stairs as hereafter every time we leave his apartment this song echoes off the walls from his phone.

Another Marshutka ride later and we were eating at the modern, capitalist equivalent of a Soviet bread line; Puzata Kchata. This place became an instant favorite; something like a delicious home-cooked meal meets college dining hall, for reasonable prices. Then Bukchdan took us to the Cathedral where his grandmother was baptized as a girl.

We basically just hung out the rest of the day. Ate some delicious pastries at a café, had some coffees, beers, etc. In the evening we went to a Soviet bunker bar, where a bouncer carrying a replica WWII machine gun and a helmet asked us for the password. Andrea translated for us later, the bouncer asked “Are you Russian?” Bukchdan answered “Hell no. Long live Ukraine!” He could tell we were foreign, but allowed us in anyway. The bar was filled with replica guns and helmets to play with and pictures and icons of the Soviet era and Ukrainian resistance fighters. The Ukrainians hated the Russian occupation, and during WWII many people were happy with the Nazi takeover as they were treated better than under Stalin. Years and years later Stalin’s brainwashing worked however, and if you ask many Ukrainians from the older generation they will still praise the greatness of the bushy mustachioed dictator.

So after a few beers we headed back to a very smoky apartment where Bukchdans housemates had a few people over. We drank some vodka with them and conversed in broken English until the higher alcohol content vodka and beers took their toll and we passed into a stone-like slumber.

25.Oct.08

After another meal at Puzata Kchata our first stop today was the top of a large hill to overlook the city. We walked slowly through the park, Bukchdan Ghettoblasting the whole way, and wound up the hill to a platform on top where many others were drinking and smoking, enjoying the pretty weather with a nice view. Going nowhere in a hurry we wound our way leisurely back down and strolled through some more city parks. At some point we saw a pig tethered to a tree accompanied by a very curious small dog; something you don’t see everyday.

After some time souvenir viewing at a local bazaar we met with more of Andrea’s friends in the city for a Turkish lunch where we all shared travel stories. After lunch they went their separate ways and the four of us ended the day with many hours in a Hookah bar where we smoked a tropical blend of Shisha and shared a few beers.

26.Oct.08

Bukchan had other things to do today so we had to sing “I Kissed a Girl” to ourselves while descending the seven flights of stairs. We had delicious omelets at a fancy place then climbed many flights up the city bell tower for a great view over all the city.

Seeing some cool cathedrals in the distance we had our next destination. Slowly making our way through city and parks, and scaring many pigeons along the way we found the towering cathedral to be not so impressive close up. Once inside we witnessed the fanaticism of Ukrainian Catholics. It was like a Jesus orgy; people kissing paintings and statues of his and Mary’s feet, shaking their hands together in highly concentrated prayer, using white cloth to wipe glass encasing relics, and oh the candles! More fervor than even at many Indian temples…it was weird. A ceremony deeper inside was figuratively drowning three babies in the waters of baptism, dooming them to feel guilty the rest of their unwritten lives for sins that don’t exist. Who knows, maybe they do have it all figured out; just to be sure we drank a few helpings of holy water!

A taxi ride later and we were chasing the metaphorical holy water down with some exponentially more delicious beer at the local Lviv brewery. Sadly they had no tour of the brewery, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. Then we walked a long way back to the city center just enjoying the nice day and chatting about travels, Peace Corps, and gossip. Andrea talked about how ready she is to leave Ukraine because it is a difficult place to live with rampant xenophobia, ignorance, and alcoholism, so far however, it seems pretty nice to us, though we would be utterly lost without Andrea as there is no English anywhere to be found and her Ukrainian and Russian is constantly complimented by locals. With one last look at the city square we headed back to Bukchdans to gather our things and leave the city.

We made our way to the train station and caught the overnight train to Kiev. The train was surprisingly comfortable for a more reasonable price than anywhere else in Europe.

Lviv Flickr Photos:

http://flickr.com/photos/flufflebuns/sets/72157608600087313/