I got into Kiev early. I took the metro at 8am. I joined the rush of people into the station, got my 50 kopek plastic metro coin ($0.10!), and was pushed and shoved in the direction of the herd. I have never experienced such a crowd. I had to shove my body and backpack onto the loaded train. And then navigate through all the cyrillic.
When I got off the train, it took me about an hour of asking people if they spoke English to find the hostel. I was pointed the wrong direction a couple of times. Ukrainians!
I met an American at the hostel. At first, Eric seemed like a typical cocky traveler. He was disinterested but proud to tell me about his 2 months of traveling. He finally got around to asking about my trip, and it was great trumping him with 3 months. Asshole.
But he warmed up, and we hung out. He was going to be going on the Trans-Mongolian to Beijing. Pretty cool. Here we are. “Can you take a picture of me?”
DEATH-METAL FRIENDS AND THE UKRAINIAN POLICE:
That night we went to the supermarket after eating at a great cafeteria-style place. As I was looking at the huge assortment of inexpensive vodka (0.5 L ~$4), some death-metal guys stopped to help me. One of them spoke English and was friendly. They pointed out their recommendations. Eric was weary and wanted to move on. I stayed to talk. Then “Johnny,” the English speaker, invited me to drink with them outside. I agreed. Eric froze up and told me that he was going to “pass” because he was tired. I bought the vodka and a couple of beers and joined my friends in black.
When we got outside, they revealed their true names. Johnny was “Warlock.” I also met “Dark,” “Cherry” (a girl), “Maggot,” and Serge. I joined them as “Terminator.” They liked it. But I made a joke that didn’t go over well. I said that I didn’t fit in because I wasn’t dressed in all black. They didn’t react well.
We went into a nearby dark alley and drank for a while and joked. It was fun but it was getting boring. They asked me what music I liked, hoping I liked some death metal. They let me hear some on one of their cell phones as they headbanged. Then three police officers walked up. Apparently, drinking in public is illegal. Most places in Europe it’s fine, and I assumed the same in Ukraine. They found out I was American and I didn’t have my passport, only my driver’s license that I showed them. I stood there not knowing what was going on. Warlock translated a little for me, and told me that we would be arrested. Then one of the cops took two of my guys to talk privately. They came back a few minutes later and said we were clear. Maggot had given the cop 100 hry which is a little less than $20.
I decided it would be best to hide the rest of the vodka. My friends disagreed. I might be caught with the bottle under my jacket, and if they weren’t there to talk for me, I’d be in trouble. They said it would be better to finish it. So we drank the rest, and quickly. There were lots of strong grabs and pats on my arm and shoulder to show that they liked me. We had been through it together. A strong bond from drink and being busted by cops. A brotherhood.
I paid Maggot back with my share of the bribe, 40 hry, ~$8. A very cheap bribe. He said he owed me a beer, but I told him to keep the little extra since he saved my ass (I had owed a third of the 100, so 33). We parted, and I fell asleep quickly when I got back to the hostel.
TRAIN TICKET OFFICE:
The next day, I went to the train station to buy a ticket back to Lviv. I wrote down my request in cyrillic on a piece of paper since I knew communicating would be impossible. The woman in the ticket office tried to tell me something, but I didn’t understand. There was an African guy waiting near the ticket window. I asked him if he knew Ukrainian. He did. Suleman was from Guinea and spoke French primarily, and a little English, and had learned Ukrainian since he was living there now. He told me that all the night trains were booked. So, I took the next available train. It would leave at 4am.
I thanked Suleman for translating for me. I tried to speak my shitty French, and he understood. We flip-flopped between simple French and simple English. It was fun. Nice guy.
TOURIST STREET SELLERS:
I walked through a line of tourist stalls selling Matroyshka dolls, old Soviet pins, hats, and coins, and other crafts. It was sad. I made the mistake at stopping at a few. They would tell me the price and I wouldn’t be interested, and they would go lower, and I still wouldn’t be interested. Then I’d be told how much work went into it. “These are handpainted. Each set takes one week.” And then I’d just feel bad. It’s tough to get away too. “Please. It’s a very good set. Don’t you like it?” Lots of apologizing just to get out of there.
I passed a guy who looked at me with desperate eyes and a desperate voice. “Please. I’m an artist. These are handpainted. Please take a look.” And here he was, an older guy basically begging this much younger tourist who’s over here to spend money and have a good time. And he was doing this every day. It’s so sad. It made me feel really lonely.
The saddest thing was seeing these sellers pack up their tables. A man in his fifties wrapping up his porcelain birds in newspaper and packing them away in a box. Done for the day. Maybe sold three or four. He’ll be coming back tomorrow hoping to sell a few more. Packing his small birds with such care.
Street-selling like this is sadder than begging.
VICTORIA AND OKSANA:
Later I met Victoria and Oksana. My former co-worker, Dan from Home Depot, has family in Kiev, and he put me in contact with his niece. She was out of town at the time, but she set me up with two of her friends to show me around. They were extremely nice and happy to walk me around to the different sites.
Here I am in front of St. Andrew’s with Victoria.
Loads of these ornate churches in Kiev. St. Michael’s and St. Sophia’s.
Oksana and Victoria in front of St. Michael’s. Me in front of the large plaza downtown.
They left and I had to kill time until my train at 4am. I got to the station at 11pm. I hung out there for a while, and then went to the McDonald’s across the street and hung out there until they closed at 1am. Then I returned to the station. All the seats were taken with people sleeping. A lot of old babushkas. Hardy and weather-beaten. Scarves around their heads and thick ankles
At one point, a bunch of cops came through and were waking people up. They were violent with some of them. One guy was really drunk and stumbling after being woken. The cops pushed him around, no mercy. I was afraid to go to sleep.
I saw a young, intelligent-looking guy, and I went over to speak with him. He spoke English. I asked why those cops were waking people up. He told me that they were homeless people, and since they didn’t have a train ticket, they were asked to leave.
I got into a long conversation with this guy, Pavlo. Really nice guy. He told me that he was going to be doing a work-study program in the US next summer. He might even be coming to Philadelphia. I gave him my contact information, and told him that he’s got a friend there. I told him that Ukraine has been very generous to me, and that I’d like to repay that by helping him out.
The train finally came. It was a Russian train coming from Moscow. This was 2nd class, kupe. A 4-person cabin with bunks that were long enough for my legs. Pretty comfortable although tight accommodation for 4.
I made it to Lviv, went into town to eat, use the internet, and walk around a little. Then I went to cross the border by foot back into Poland.
