Traveler, Writer, Aquarius, Peace Corps Volunteer
The evidence
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It�s the eve of the closing Olympic ceremonies in Athens, the Republican convention in New York, and a new school year in Ukraine. I�m not likely to participate in either of the first two (although I will scream �fuggedaboudit� sometime around 4 am here when Bush accepts the nomination � keep it up, Al Frankens and Michael Moores � someone has to save the world), but I�m sure to have a part in the third. Oh, wait! This is Ukraine! I guess I�ll have to actually wait and see if any of the students or teachers actually show up for school. And the wheel in the sky keeps on turning�
But hey! Enough of that inane rambling! I�ve got a whole summer�s worth of craziness to catch you up on. Here�s everything you ever wanted to know about my life the last two months (edited, of course, for a PG audience):
June 25: Arrive in Prague. Wander around the neighborhood where the hotel is supposed to be for an hour. All I have are directions, no address. I find a local pub to enjoy a cold Pilsner Urquel while I wait. I ask two lovely ladies at another hotel if they�ve ever heard of the place I�m looking for. No luck. I go to another pub they recommend and spend an hour speaking Russian with this grizzled Czech barman who brags about his wife and four girlfriends. I�m shocked to discover that after finally getting out from behind the Iron Curtain, I actually prefer speaking Russian to English. Eventually, I stumble across a billboard for an apartment complex with a similar name to the hotel. Lo and behold, that�s the spot. After dropping off my bags, I�m sure my mom and Marc will have the same problems finding the hotel as I did, so I amble about hoping to run across them. The Fates smile on me (the only time this summer) and we have a warm reception before dinner and a walk.
The rest of Prague goes as follows. Had a great day of sightseeing, then somehow got sick with a stomach virus. Why does this always happen to me? Thought about changing my original plan to leave the next evening for Croatia and stay one more night. Told mom and Marc I probably would. Felt better, changed my mind to keep the schedule, and wrote them a note saying sorry I couldn�t say a proper goodbye, but I really need to go. Otherwise, I would have gotten into Zagreb at midnight with no place to stay. More on this situation later�
June 28: Arrive in Zagreb. It�s early morning and I�m feeling better. I�m at the bus station and heading to Pula, a city on the Istrian peninsula, just a short ferry from Venice. Meet some cool people on the bus who are all staying at a youth hostel, decide to do my own thing and make my own accommodations, and end up at the youth hostel after all. At first blush, I didn�t think much of Pula, but the giant Roman amphitheater, cobblestone piazza, and freshly caught calamari changed all that. Met two cool sisters from Ireland at the hostel who decided to travel with me down to the island of Hvar the next day.
This was probably the best part of the trip. We took an overnight ferry down the Dalmatian coast and partied with a group of twenty-five or so Austrian girls on their way to perform in Dubrovnik in a soul choir. We spent the night with a guitar singing Janis Joplin and Bill Withers and Simon and Garfunkle, and the next morning woke to one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world.
All I can say about Hvar, and the southern Croatian coast in general, is that you should start planning your next vacation now. The sun always shines, the scenery is spectacular, the food is among the best and freshest you�ll ever eat, and Croatians are extremely friendly. My first night in Hvar was spent at an international model competition, followed by dancing with most of them at the big nightclub there (okay, next to, not with, but you know what I�m saying). Next morning was lying in the sun next to a topless Ms. Poland (unfortunately with her boyfriend), and a full moon party that night. The last night, I met a group of Croatian girls who invited me to party with them, until a group of men threatened to kick my ass if I didn�t leave, claiming the women were with them and it would be best if I went home. The odds being what they were � me against an angry mob of drunk Slavs, I thought it best to oblige.
July 3: Get to Dubrovnik, the crown jewel of the Dalmatian coast. While Hvar is a party island akin to Greece or Spain, Dubrovnik is a true city that has the good fortune of being on the water, having a thousand-year-old wall protecting it from the Genoese and Venetian hoards, and an abundance of shops and restaurants and live music. The beauty of Dubrovnik, however, was that I met up with a friend of a friend from Peace Corps there whose parents just happen to own two apartments in the center of the old city. So I had a great place to stay, a companion for five days, and was treated to dinner almost every night. Lots more sun and great food, another ferry to a local island, and then�
July 8: A day that will live in infamy. At the airport on my way to Budapest, I�m informed by armed security that there is a knife in my carry-on. Inadvertently, I put my Leatherman in the wrong bag. My choice is to throw it out or check the carry-on. Oh, fickle Fate. It seemed so silly to throw away a $40 Leatherman. Alas, I checked the bag, and the rest was an absolute mess. For those of you who don�t already know the story, my bag didn�t make it onto the plane. It got shipped the next day. It arrived, but was subsequently lost by the delivery service. It was a total mess. I lost my iPod, portable speakers, Tevas, toiletry bag and toiletries, gifts from home (including two big jars of hot sauce that I was drooling over), the backpack itself, and of course, the damn Leatherman. The one saving grace was that I still had my digital camera. But just wait�
Budapest itself was okay. I had a wonderful time staying with my friend Andy�s grandmother in the heart of the city, saw the sights, partied at great nightclubs (for the single men out there, if Ukraine is too far for you to travel for the most extraordinary women in the world, go to Budapest), and though I spent a few 5 am�s lonely and wandering home by myself across the Danube lamenting my bad luck, I really liked the city.
July 11: Heading home. Took an overnight train from Budapest to Prague, hung out with these two cool Swedish girls, had no trouble getting to the airport, checked my bag, and was off to Kyiv. So you�d think everything was just grand, right?
When I arrived in Kyiv, I had a four hour layover, which I spent hanging out at the airport, mostly in a cafe. According to my baggage stub from Prague, my bag was marked for delivery to Donetsk. Was it unreasonable of me to assume my bag therefore would be transferred appropriately? Well, as I checked in to receive my boarding pass, the agent asked me if I had any bags to check. I said no, that my bag should have already been passed through. Boarding pass now in hand, I sat down and waited for the plane to board any minute. That�s when the agent comes back out and informs me that since Kyiv is the first entry point into the country, my bag has to go through customs. Oh shit. I have about two minutes to run back to the main terminal, find my bag, and get the hell back to my plane.
I ran out, hit the traffic of the main building, parted the waters of the crowd surrounding the �exit only� arrival doors, flew in as soon as they opened, ran to lost luggage, found my bag, shot passed customs with a curt explanation, and just made it to the gate in time to board. Problem solved?
Three hours later, I�m finally home. Eager to see my vacation photos, I open up my camera bag to get my digital camera. Uh huh. Wasn�t there. Looks like customs somewhere helped themselves to it. Oh, was I pissed. My only thought was running to the Internet cafe and emailing my friend Andy right away to call his grandmother and see if I left the camera there somehow by accident. As Yahoo opened, I saw an email from my mom, a reply to my follow-up apology email about Prague and leaving early. Let�s just say that she was none too pleased with my decision and didn�t take it very well. My back crumpled under the weight of that proverbial last straw, and it took a half-hour phone call to the States to rectify the situation. In the end, all was well, with the exception of losing everything I bought prior to Ukraine. But I took it in stride. After all, it�s only stuff, and stuff can be replaced.
So the 16-day odyssey came to an end and I was finally home sweet home for what I thought would be at least a month. Little did I know that a new adventure was just around the corner.
July 20: My friend Luke arrives home from Kyiv and tells me he needs to make an immediate return trip to deal with visa issues for his adventure in Russia, Mongolia, and China on the Trans-Siberia Express. From Kyiv, he and some friends of ours are planning a trip to Lvov for the weekend. Well, I wasn�t doing anything, so off I went.
Lvov is the least Ukrainian of all the cities here, and feels more like Budapest than Kyiv. It used to belong to Poland, and from what I understand, looks just like its sister city, Krakow, except that fifty years of neglect have left its baroque-style buildings a lot worse for the wear. Although, that�s part of its charm, as on many of the buildings the fading paint reveals Polish and Hebrew underneath. One day, if Ukraine ever gets its act together and realizes that there�s a market in tourism, Lvov will be a major city to visit on any Eastern European swing. But right now, it�s a bit of an unknown treat. We played chess in the park with old men, watched patriotic rallies, and went to some crazy discos the likes of which they don�t have anywhere in the States.
One other interesting thing about Lvov is that it�s the home of the Ukrainian independence movement, and they don�t always take well to hearing the language of their imperialist oppressors. More than once did my friends get approached and yelled at for speaking Russian. But that�s life in the west of the east.
From Lvov we returned to Kyiv, and I stayed there for a few more days. By the time I returned to Donetsk, the weekend was upon me. And so were all of my friends I traveled with in Kyiv and Lvov. The party just kept on rolling until they left Sunday night. And I finally broke down and bought a cell phone. The SMSs have not stopped since.
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