Odessa>Kiev>Kamyanets-Podilsky>Kiev

Our friend Lana on the right with her best friend Zoia in the Kiev metro.







Chernobyl Museum. Here are photos of the "bio-robots"; the volunteers who were sent in to clean up radioactive debris following the explosion at Chernobyl and died as a result. Many of them died within weeks following their services or else a few years later of cancer and other problems related to their work at the exploded nuclear reactor. We watched a video of this clean-up and these guys were given nothing but useless lead-aprons and rinky-dink shovels to do their job with - it makes you a little sick to see how little regard there was for these lives. Apparently they were offered release from military service if they did one minute of this clean-up - Chris pointed out that at the time going to war in Afghanistan was a likelihood for those in the military.





Big Momma, Rodina Mat (Nation's Mother) - the largest statue in the world which was built along with the Museum of the Great Patriotic War (WW2) in order to commemorate the defense of the Soviet Union.





View from fortress at Kamyanets-Podilsky. I wasn't able to find any information on the circle of stones in the background, although it appears to be some sort of pagan site along the lines of Stonehenge.





Fortress at Kamyanets-Podilsky in Western Ukraine.





This is St.Michael's Monastery in central Kiev. The small chapel on the left survived the demolition of the monastery by the Soviets in the 1930's.





Maydan Nezalezhnosti in Kiev - This is the public square and centre of Kiev where the Orange Revolution protests and mass gatherings were held.





Stalinist architecture in Kiev


The title of this entry gives an idea of where I've been since leaving Odessa. I left on a nighttrain to Kiev after having spent last Wednesday in Odessa exploring it's catacombs with Ilsa and Carey from the hostel. It was pretty wild to see where Soviet partisans had hid out and based their campaign against the Nazi's during WW2. The tunnels still contained such basic things as hospital beds and a kitchen but also wall etchings and paintings that glorified the Soviet Union, and its leaders, while mocking Hitler.

Arriving in Kiev the next morning was exciting and stressful all a once. I was supposed to meet Chris in Kamyanets-Podilsky the next day and it looked as if I would have to board another train that evening. Deciding to make the best of it I left my bag in a locker at the train station and decided to visit few sites in the city. Kiev is famous for its city centre monasteries and I decided to visit two of them: The Caves Monastery and St. Michael's monastery. The Caves is most well-known as a tourist attraction for the mummified monks that are interred there. The bodies are displayed in glass-topped coffins throughout the hand-dug tunnels and though they are wrapped in robes there is the occasional hand or foot sticking out - enough to give one the morbid jollies I suppose.

St. Michael's monastery was interesting for the fact that it had only been rebuilt in the past 12 years or so - it had been completely destroyed by the communists in the 1930's. Before this the monastery had stood since the 1100's and had been one of the oldest constructions in Ukraine. Although the Soviet past is always present in the decayed infrastructure, or the suffocating bureaucracy, such attempts at rebuilding are almost convincing in giving the impression that Soviet excesses had not happened.

For myself this initial taste of Kiev was enough to make me not want to leave it immediately. People are friendly, helpful and curious here and, aside from getting in and out of the metro, the atmosphere here is relaxed and pleasant. Also I simply wanted to hang out and take in the Stalinist architecture, wide boulevards and the metro with it's hammer-and-sickle emblems and bust of Communist leaders. In the end I had to leave and meet Chris in Kamayanets-Podilsky.

Taking the train out of Kiev was a bit stressful. I had ten minutes to take the train and was given the usual tourist treatment at the ticket counter, meaning I was offered only the most expensive ticket. Although pissed off when I realized the diference in cost I ended up sleeping like a baby on the train as I had a whole cabin to myself; needless to say I woke up feeling refreshed in Kamyanets-Podilsky.

Waiting in line for the bus to town I asked a girl if she spoke English and could help me find the bus I needed. Lana, it turned out not only gave me directions but was kind enough to walk around with me to help me find a hotel and also negotiate the price. She was in town to meet some of her profs but offered to hang out and show me around town. Chris arrived later that afernoon and the three of use went for dinner and drinks in the evening. At the restaurant we were overheard speaking English by Andre and his girlfriend, Olga, who invited us to drink vodka with them. Although memories of Tiraspol seemed still fresh in our minds Chris and I agreed a shot wouldn't hurt. Over the next hour or more Chris, Andre and I did shot of vodka and made petty conversation with Lana as translator. What's funny is that in this region people are often more than willing to offer you drinks for hours on end - often expecting the equivalent in return at some point - but they don't mind drinking with someone who is effectively mute. It's interesting that foreigners are sometimes such an attraction that sitting in silence and drinking with them is still considered to be interesting.

After viewing the famous fortress of Kamyanets-Podilsky, and missing out on the canyon that surrounds it, Chris and I decided to join Lana who was going back to Kiev where's she from. Hanging out in the capital with a local was enough reason to head back East. We caught an express train the next day and arrived in Kiev later that evening. Outside the train station Chris and I were able to find an apartment for rent from one of the babushkas hanging out there. We agreed on a price and showed up to the apartment content that we'd found a good deal. Unfortunately the next day we discovered that there was no hot water causing relations between Chris and I to disintegrate as he was content to do without the hot water. We ended up at a real rip-off of a youth hostel yesterday but as we're leaving Kiev today our quarrels over accomodation are over.

In the meantime Kiev has been great. We've visited the Caves Monastery again. On Sunday we visited the WW2 Museum where we saw recovered Nazi artifacts (such as boots and gloves made out of human skin) and the tallest statue on Earth, Rodina Mat. Outside of that, eating good Ukrainian food, hanging out with Lana and her friends, watching World Cup football with thousands of Ukrainians in the street and checking out Kiev's nightlife have been some of the highlights of our visit here. What's nice about this place is that it's a real gem and the locals are not yet jaded by tourism - they find out you're from Canada and the response 9 times out of 10 is genuine enthusiasm and curiousity. I can't help but feel a bit of regret that I'm not staying longer.

For moms sake

Hi everybody,

So I ve been getting alot of negative feedback regarding my non-involvement in this blog project. Really, I don t have any excuses, apart for lazyness, and a general sens of nonchalence.

Well as everybody knows by now, Steve and I have been spinning round east-central Europe for the better part of spring. My trip started a bit before s Steves, so here's the jazz for the first 3 weeks:

I got off the plane in Vienna, and rushed down to Bratislava in order to be in the Warsaw Pact countries as soon as possible. I hooked up with a friend of a friend from Uni (Thanks Marcel) and Crashed at his lovely soviet estate.

Me and Pavol quickly became friends, and in no time at all, I was introduced to a whole group of friendly Slovaks that took me round town for a few drinks. After recovering from Jet lag and one of the worst hangover of my life, I headed for the Tata montains. After being assured that it was ok to speed on the highways in Slovakia ( 160 km\h will only get you a 10 dollars fine) I strapped on my imaginary seatbelt and rushed to one of the most aw inspiring scenary I ever had the chance to see.

After a few shots of Vodka, my gear on my back, we proceded to climb up the more then 2 km strech of montain. It was one o'clock in the morning. Got up, prayed a non-existent deity, bursted into nervous laughs, and, of course, drank more vodka!

The people I know may not actually believe this, but this was all part of a rafting trip. Its amazing how being overseas effects your psyche. Anyway, I did fall in the water a few time, got yelled at in Slovak and ended up in a local village pub, alll eyes watching me, as I was offered the traditional food of the place. Now, I m pretty open minded when it comes too food, but for some reason I just coudnt handle this potatoe purree mixed in with goat cheese and bacon.

I left for Gyor, a little Hungarian town were I was put up in a University dormitory. It was mixed, and as soon as people heard my english, they wanted to know where I was from, what was I doing here, what were my plans. The people in Gyor were probably some of the friendliest "strangers" I meant in my journey. They showed me the town and invited me to one awsome riverside party.

I stayed a few days in Budapest before the arrival of Steve. I longed arround the city and explored its museams. Learned alot about my Hungarian heritage. The scariest of all was the terror museam, were I shaw first hand the horrors of the Soviet regime. I hooked up with some interesting characters, had some fun and slept in alot.

And then Steve arrived, and the rest, as they say, is history...

The Odessa File

Typical beautiful architecture of Odessa





Wall etchings from Soviet partisans in the Odessa catacombs






Lone Fisherman Off the Pier At Arkadia, Odessa





So, about Odessa. Getting there ended up being another Transdniestr adventure. You see the bus from Chisinau to Odessa goes directly through everyone's favourite unrecognized state. Anyway, getting in was fine - a small fee for the visa and otherwise smiles and handshakes all around. Leaving Transdniestr going into Ukraine was another affair altogether. I should have expected it but being the only Westerner on the bus I was naturally singled out for extra attention. Brought into an office and sat down it was explained to me through a series of gestures and grunts and the word "problem" that I was supposed to have "closed" my Moldovan visa in Chisinau, showing that I had left Moldova. How I was supposed to have done this when I remained in the country I don't know. Also I pointed out that this shouldn't have mattered as I had already been allowed into Transdniestr and that the Moldovan visa was now no-one's concern. Point is though there's no reasoning with the mafia. So $15 worth of Serbian dinars as a "donation" to the Transdniestr border guards foreign currency collection and I was free to leave.

Once in Odessa I searched the centre for an internet cafe to find the hostel Chris was staying at. It was already dark and the strangest thing happened when a kid riding a horse appeared out of nowhere - just clip-clopping down the sidewalk slowly. I don't know how to explain it but it was like something out of time. For me this sort of defines the atmosphere in Odessa. Sort of lonely and romantic, there's a lot going on but there remains a quietness about the place. In fact it seemed really akin to Montreal - the water, the beautiful buildings that need a fix-up, the second city of former glory type of place. Also, you get the impression that Odessians feel independent of other places, a lot like Montrealers - it's a bubble of sorts.

Eventually I found the hostel. I was greeted at the door by Carey, an Australian expat who was in the midst of opening Odessa's first hostel with his brother. These two guys were classic Australian dudes, easygoing, friendly and straight-on about everything. Because the renovations weren't finished Carey basically let Chris and I stay there for free. It was a great base to explore Odessa from and Carey, Todd and the staff, Ilsa and Katya were fun to hang out with as well.

Because Chris and I had been out of touch over the weekend he had already made plans to go to Lviv so he took off the second night I was there. I decided to hang out and see a little of the city at least. The hang-out, beach area of Arkadia was my favourite of all Odessa's neighbourhoods. I was there in the middle of the day but the clubs and bars were opening up and getting ready for the coming evening. Carnival-type fun games were all over the place as well fast food joints. All of this lent Arkadia a certain kitch and made it appreciable. What's important about Arkadia though is the water, the Black Sea. Once past all of the touristy shit things changed completely - kids were hanging out swimming and having dive contests off the end of one of the piers, couples and groups of friends sipped on beers and talked while dog owners played with their pets in the water. This seemed like something realy genuine and uniquely Odessan. I headed out to the end of one of the piers to sit down and relax and have a beer of my own. My only company was two old couples that were fishing and a single fisherman who had somehow gotten himself out to a concrete block in the middle of the water. There were a few drops of rain here and there but everyone seemed content and quiet, there were even restaurant staff that had come out to the pier on their breaks to see how it went with the old fishing couples. Although central Odessa is beautiful and not to be missed I think hanging out on a pier in Arkadia is as good as it gets.

Down Home in Vulcanesti

Vulcanesti, Moldova





Our friends Matt and Erin in Vulcanesti.



On our last night in Chisinau Chris and I became acquainted with a group of American Peace Corps volunteers based in Moldova. One volunteer, Chad, overheard Chris and I talking loudly in English and invited us over to join his group of friends. It was refreshing to hang out with people who spoke the same language, were articulate and well-informed but also understood our experiences travelling in Moldova. At the end of the evening Matt invited Chris and I down to his assigned village, Vulcanesti, in the southern Gagauz region of Moldova. Following our visit to Transdniestr Matt's place seemed the perfect respite. Over the next three nights we relaxed in Vulncanesti with Matt, Andy and Mattš girlfriend Erin, eating and drinking to our heart's content. Vulcanesti may not be the greatest of tourist destinations but I won't forget the Russian karaoke, the great food nor the farm animals that roam the town and it's surroundings. I remember feeling as if any negative feelings that I'd developed towards Moldova (following being arrested in Chisinau) dissolved the moment we entered into open pasture only minutes from the town centre. Such a beautiful country and the people here seemed so close to it in the way they lived, by working the land and raising their animals.

Chris had decided that either way he was going to Odessa whereas I was undecided until Friday - I was thinking it would be more attractive to head directly to Romania. After thinking it over I decided that I would regret it if I did not see Odessa as well; in my case though I decided to go via Chisinau. On Saturday I headed to Chisinau while Chris crossed the Ukrainian border. It turned out later on that Chris foolishly had not anticipated having to enter the country he just left (Moldova) in order to travel from one point in Ukraine to another (Odessa). Basically, he left Moldova and had to re-enter it at another point in order to get to Odessa, but without a re-entry visa he was held up at the border for 6 hours. In the meantime I was having drinks and playing pool with Peace Corps volunteers in Chisinau. I had met up with our friend Andy and his friend Casey who I spent the evening hanging out with. Andy split at one point so Casey, myself and two other Peace Corpsers, Nicole and Mona, hung out at a Syrian restaurant bar. As if we needed more alcohol Casey won a bottle of Kvint Cognac. Our livers were already sodden with alcohol and Casey had decided the appropriate thing was to donate the cognac to charity. Eventually the girls departed so Casey and I chose to split a hotel room. An hour later we were settled comfortably into a hotel room watching a Chuck Norris film on the tele. Chuck Norris apparently is partially Moldovan descended and people here often cary icons of him. There are also plans to erect a statue of Chuck in one of Chisinau's central city parks.

Having said my goodbye to Moldova I boarded the bus to Odessa on Sunday morning. I'll leave details of that adventrue for the next update.

Back In the U.S.S.R.

Chris and His Tiraspol Bitches








In Tiraspol people know that Stalin was simply misunderstood and that's why they've erected this monument to him.








"Afghanistan was SO not cool...". I don't know what's up with this Afghanistan war monument.



It's been over a week since I've updated this page so here's the short version of what Chris and I have been up to.

Following our arrest for walking Chris and I decided we weren't yet done with Soviet police state adventure. We relaxed in Chisinau on Monday before heading to the unrecognized, mafia-run communist state of Transdniestr. The fun began as soon as we got on the bus in Chisinau as we were herded to the back of the bus to sit next to a young drunk Russian family from Tiraspol. Dmitri, the father of the family, offered Chris and I swigs from his beer bottle as his wife stared out the window and drank her brew in silence. On the way to Tiraspol views of vinyards, decayed industry and rolling green hills were occasionally obscured by Dmitri's face as he hugged Chris and I while whispering sweet nothings in Russian into our ears. It looked like Transdniestr was going to be a barrel of laughs.

Maybe an hour after leaving Chisinau we were greeted by an enormous hammer-and-sickle emblem indicating that we were on the frontier of the last remaining remnant of the Soviet Union. After an exciting game of charades with the customs agent he was content that I did not have any heroin, guns, knives or bombs with me. After obtaining this approval we moved onto the immigration officer who instructed Chris and I on our obligations as visitors to Transdniestr; essentially, we had to register with the police every day that we were the there which seemed agreeable enough. As people from our bus were yelling at us for delaying them we were shunted off to the next office in order to pay for our visas. At this point Dmitri came up out of nowhere to honour his earlier promise to help Chris and I. He grabbed my shoulder as I was about to enter the office behind Chris and looking me straight in the eye and said: "Steve - I help - friend" before running off, blind drunk, down the road. After paying our fine and going back to the bus it was apparent to Dmitri was not coming back - he had either disappeared or been arrested. The bus departed without Dmitri and Chris and I sat next to his crying wife and child for the final push to Tiraspol.

In Tiraspol we headed directly for Hotel Drushba ("Hotel Friendship") and were told there that before renting a room we would have to register with the local militia. We got directions and headed directly to the militia office. Along the way we passed the House of Soviets and an enormous bust of Lenin; how weird this place seemed. Unlike our last encounter with the local police in Chisinau this was a completely different affair; the local militia were entirely young, attractive women in short skirts and high heels. The weirdness of this place seemed only more acute. Anyway, Chris was particularly excited as the militia officers asked us questions and giggled the whole time at these two Canadians in their midst. If anything the comedy of our visit to the militia was enough to relax us from the stress of the previous few hours. We returned to Hotel Drushba and dropped our stuff off before heading out to explore the town.

While looking for a restaurant and internet cafe Chris and I were approached by two girls on the street. With hardly any English they walked us around their town and gave us a tour of the town's sites such as the Afghan war memorial, a bust of Stalin, a tank and another statue of Lenin. After sightseeing we went to hang out with the girls and a group of their friends at the local cafe-restaurant-bar-nightclub. For the next few hours we pounded back bottles of vodka and mugs of beer while having next to no conversation with each other. Chris made good friends though with one guy named Victor who spoke no English but was able to announce at least 200 times "Canada ---- Tiraspol - FRIEND!!". As much as I was intellectually stimulated by such company I eventually spent all of my 20 dollar budget for the day and returned to the hotel leaving Chris and his newfound friends to keep drinking.

Upon waking the next morning Chris filled me in on the events following my early departure the night before. After having bought 6 or 7 bottles of vodka for everyone they brought him to another club that was completely vacant. He made out with the only mulattoe girl in all of Transdniestr the locals ordered a bottle of vodka and servd Chris the bill - only 5 times more expensive than it had been at the last place. He told everyone to fuck off and tried to fight everyone before making his way back to the hotel and vomiting all over the place.

We packed out gear, said goodbye to Tiraspol and Transdniestr and headed to the bus station. Our next stop would be Vulcanesti in the south of Moldova to visit our friend Matt from the Peace Corps who we had met in Chisinau on our last night there.

Still Alive and in Chisinau, Moldova

One complete day of travel from Sofia we brought us to Chisinau, Moldova, last Friday the 2nd. After checking into the wonderfully decrepit Soviet-era "Hotel Turist" we decided to familiarise ourselves with the city. Full of parks, cafes and restaurants Chisinau seemed the most relaxed of the any of the cities we'd visited so far on our trip;in fact, it's a little hard to believe over 800,000 people live there. Wandering around all day we ended up at a cafe where after asking for help with a menu a group of Moldovan Russians invited us to hang out with them and one of them, Natasha, invited us to the club where she works as a dishwasher: "Military Pub". We jumped on a bus with her and headed directly to the club. The place had a tank in the middle of the dance floor and soviet type paraphernalia all over the place. Chris and I hung out with Natasha, and drank a pile of beers before the mid-evening show: the Soviet national anthem followed by a weird cabaret featuring three fat girls in uniform dancing while the audience laughed and cheered. Chris and I wondered what the deal was: were these three fat girls dancing because no one here is fat and fat is sexy OR was everyone laughing at them?. Turns out they are paid to wear uniforms and dance a burlesque routine so everyone can have a chuckle at them -I don't know what this says about Moldovan society but it was pretty friggin strange.

On Saturday we rented an apartment as it costs the equivalent of a hotel and was much more comfortable while affording us the opportunity to see how the locals live. I passed the day doing nothing and resting up but on Sunday Chris cooked a meal and invited our new Moldovan friends, Natasha and Rigina, over. We hung out, ate, drank and talked before heading out for a walk. Not 10 minutes after we left the house a group of Chisinau's finest accosted us on the street demanding our passports. Not being accustomed to living in a police state, nor bringing travel documents with us whenever we left the house, Chris and I didn't have our passports on us. We all argued with the police saying we could get our documents if only they'd let us go back to the apartment but they insisted we follow them to the police station. For the next hour or more we sat there as these corrupt cops yelled at us, yelled at our friends and threatened them before the pig in charge suggested we could give them some money and we'd all be allowed to leave. Chris handed over a couple of hundred lei (16 dollars maybe) and we all walked out worse for the wear. Unfortunately this sort of shit could have been avoided if cooler wiser heads had prevailed but the end result is Moldova seemed pretty ugly all of a sudden.