Crimean Peninsula

April 26-May 1, 2002

I had the opportunity to go to Sevastopol for a conference April 26-28, and I decided to stay a few days after the conference to do some sightseeing. There is also a quick guide if you want just the highlights, and a photo gallery.

Friday, April 26

Kitty and I arrived in Simferopol on the train from Odessa at about 8:15 in the morning (having left at about 6 p.m. the night before). With another teacher, we took a taxi for 60 grivinias to the place in Sevastopol we would be staying at, a dormitory on the grounds of School No. 8 (aka “the Russian School”). This is where the conference was being held. We went into the hostel (dormitory) where we would be staying.

After a hellish first day characterized by poor disorganization and unexpected presentations, we got on the bus for a tour of the city. The tour guide spoke in Russian, so Kitty and I didn’t even try to listen. We saw the harbor where the Russians have their Black Sea Fleet port. A building across the harbor had the Russian flag flying on it. We saw a monument to where the Russians sunk their boats to prevent enemies from reaching the harbor. We saw the monument to Admiral Nakhimova, after whom the main street in Sevastopol is named after. But the best sight by far was Khersones, an ancient Greek ruin. There was an old coin mint called the “coin yard”, old pottery, and ruins of houses. And of course the water was clear blue. The marble columns were also impressive. Ed Jackson pointed out that the columns from Khersones appear on the back of the one-gryvnia note. He said someone told him it was a bad sign that the gryvnia has ruins on it; it’s a sign that the money will also go into ruins.

One of the two buses left early (why I don’t know). So everybody had to cram back onto one bus. Fortunately we didn’t stay on the bus long. The American contingent (Me, Kitty, Lilia, Tricia, another American and her friend) got off downtown and walked to a kind of sailor-themed pub. We had kvas, a beer-like drink made from bread. It was okay. We had Crimean wine which was not sweet. Many of us ordered zharkoye, which consists of meat, potatoes, mushrooms and cheese in a broth in a clay pot. It was really good.

After dinner Lilia and Patricia caught a taxi to their hotel. I went on the trolleybus with Kitty, the American, and her Ukrainian friend. They knew an Internet café, and when the trolleybus stopped near it I got off. There was a very worried email from Renuka, wondering what happened to me after I got in the taxi Wednesday night. On top of that, she had told Alla that she hadn’t heard from me, so Alla sent a very panicked email to me as well. I wrote back to Renuka to tell her I was alive, but as I was writing to Alla the woman working in the café said, “the café is closed an the server shuts down at 10:00.” It was now 10:01. Instead of being grateful she spoke English, I snapped back, “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? I could have planned my time more carefully.” I asked how much and she said there would be no charge. That was one small relief.

I took the trolleybus back to the hostel area. I saw a Xerox place which I would need the next day. I bought some toilet paper in case we ran out at the hostel (the roll looked kind of low). I couldn’t get into the hostel, even after banging on the door and ringing the bell and yelling outside our window to Kitty. Finally I went to the school to ask the guard for the key to the front door. He left his post to let me into the hostel, which I thought was odd.

Saturday, April 27

I got up in the morning to take a shower, which turned out to have only tepid water. (We were told later that you have to wait 2 hours between showers for the hot water to replenish). I hadn’t had a shower since Thursday at midday, so I had to do it.

Kitty and I went back to the Xerox place, which was 20 kopeks. I didn’t want to pay it but I didn’t know for sure if I’d see a Xerox place in town. It took forever, too.

We got on the marshrustka going downtown towards the Internet cafe, and were pleasantly surprised to hear three good American songs in a row. We got off and walked towards the same Internet café I had been to the night before. We used it; turned out it was 8 gryvnias an hour! That is quite expensive for Ukraine.

After the presentations were over, we had a coffee break (with tea and cookies in the cafeteria). One of the teachers from Odessa was inviting Kitty to go out with them, saying to me “if you don’t mind.” I thought it meant they were just inviting Kitty, but they were inviting me too. There were six of or seven of us, and one car. Kitty and I wanted to put our things away, so he drove one load to the place, then came back and picked us up. We laughed when we realized the place we were being driven to was at the edge of the apartment block; we could have walked there. We tried not to laugh when we got inside and the Ukrainians ordered bananas “because Kitty likes them”. We also had orange juice, champagne, and chocolate. There were two Russian sailors in uniforms. One walked over to me and asked me to dance. I was so shocked that he would ask, plus the music at the time sounded too romantic, so I said no. He asked why, and I said I couldn’t. When he sat down though, I regretted. Here was my chance to tell the world, “I danced with a Russian sailor in a bar”. It was something right out of Top Gun or some other movie. But I didn’t know how to tell him to ask me again. They finished their drinks and left.

We finished our drinks and then left as well. We picked up some bread and cheese at a producti store and then had a dinner in our quiet albeit cold room. It was so cold I wore a sweater to bed and used two blankets. Unbearable. But there was nothing we could do.

Sunday, April 28

In the morning, I got up and hoped to get a warm shower. I did. After my shower, the man across the hall invited me to sit in the kitchen and eat breakfast with them. One of the men was Russian; the other was of Uzbek origin, and he was the one doing the cooking. He made a dish called “plof” (like pilaf but worse-sounding), which was rice with carrots and meat (in this case veal) cooked in butter. I thought it was odd to eat such food for breakfast but I obliged. Kitty had spent two years in Uzbekistan so I thought she would be excited to meet an Uzbek and eat plof again. I got her to come to the kitchen. She talked to the man but later confided to me that she thought she had seen the last of plof.

We went to our sessions (at 9:00 in the morning on a Sunday!). I had two Internet seminars, the easiest seminars I’ve ever done. And I think the most useful, since every student had a computer at his or her desk. There was a picnic scheduled at the end of the conference, but I wanted to get straight to Yalta. I wanted to get there before Chekhov house closed. And I didn’t want to spend any more time at the conference then necessary.

Ira’s brother was going to drive Kitty to Simferopol at 3:00. He offered to drive me to Yalta, but since it was already 12:30 I didn’t want him to be late for Kitty. I asked him to take me to the bus station. We were able to stop and get gryvnias and dollars for me, then get me a marshrutka (a minivan used as a bus) for only 8 gryvnias.

The drive to Yalta was breathtaking (and not because of all the near misses the marshrutka had while passing cars). On the right was a good view of the Black Sea; on the left were trees and high, rocky mountains. It was the most beautiful setting I had ever seen in Ukraine. It reminded me of home and at the same time it reminded me of nothing I had ever seen before. We saw mountain climbers and lots of hikers. The marshrutka seemed to stop at bus stops that were in the middle of nowhere. I wondered where people had come from to get to the bus stop, and where they were going when they got off.

When we got to the Yalta bus station, I took a taxi (7 grivnias) to the hotel I had read about in Lonely Planet, Hotel Otdich (actually Hotel Otdikh). It was a small hotel on a small, winding street. I asked for a single room (komnata cadin myeste) like Ira had taught me. But they said they didn’t have any more singles. They offered me a double for 64 gryvnias (12 dollars) a night, including breakfast. I asked if they had hot water around the clock; they said they did. So I took it. The room was great. It had two single beds, a couch with a coffee table, two chairs, a TV, and a little refrigerator. They had drinks and snacks and a price list that had been typed up on a typewriter. The toilet seat had a “sanitized for your protection” seal on it. I thought that was cute. The best part, though, was the view. I had a view of Yalta Bay. I was so close to the bay that at night and in the morning I could hear the waves crashing.

After I settled in, I left the hotel and walked down the steps to what seemed to be a beach. It was a very pebbly beach. People there seemed to be half-dressed; women were sometimes topless or wearing thongs (thus bottomless from behind). Some men and women seemed to be wearing not bathing suits but underwear. All in all it was not a pretty sight. I left as quickly as I could and wound my way to the market square where the local marshrutkas were. I took #15 with the intention of going to Chekhov house, but didn’t get off at the right stop; the man had to turn around and take me back to the “Spartak” terminal. From there I could have waited for another bus, but instead I decided to walk using my map and my ability to ask for directions. I passed a lovely park, then walked up a killer hill to the Dom-Musey (house-museum). There weren’t many signs, but maybe I was coming from the less commonly used direction.

The house was beautiful. It was white stucco and reminded me of Spanish mission-style houses in California. Inside I saw the parlor areas. I saw the room where his mother died. I saw the room where he wrote a few of his plays, which seemed to me to be rather dark for working. I saw another dining room with a piano, where Rachmaninoff played. I saw a leather coat of his, which was quite large. The woman (if I’m remembering my Russian correctly) said he was a big man, 1 meter 86 centimeters (over 6 feet). The gardens were equally lovely. I can still smell the flowers and the plants in my mind.

I wanted to be sure to get lots of exercise, so I walked from vulitsa Kirova all the way down to the sea (about a mile). I walked up Naberezhna Lenina. The city really seemed to be gearing up for summer—I saw lots of cleaning, painting, workers fixing broken benches etc. I stopped at one restaurant, but if the prices on the menu didn’t kill me, the fumes from the wood treatment would have so I left. I walked past some more seafood restaurants, but didn’t see the place that was recommended by Lonely Planet, Restaurant Gorman. I looked at one fish restaurant menu that seemed to have decent prices, and sat down outside with a view of the harbor.

It turned out the restaurant had done the old trick of quoting the price of a meal per 100 gram serving, then “suggesting” that 100 grams is not much and I should order more. At this point I should have left, but I figured the prices would be pretty much the same no matter where I went, and I was really hungry. So I ordered a “mussel salad”, sudak (fish) “stuffed” with vegetables, and kahor (a type of sweet wine). The mussel salad was chewy mussels with a type of ketchup, mayonnaise, cucumbers, and tomatoes. The stuffed fish was not stuffed at all—it was plain baked fish with vegetables cut and arranged like flowers on the side. Later I ordered a blini pa-evresky (Jewish Blintz) which was more like an omlette filled with melted cheese and onion. It was an insult to my ethnic group.

As I was waiting for my food to be served, I heard a man talking in English with an American accent. I turned and stared, then apologized for staring but I don’t hear American voices in Ukraine very often. His name was John, and he is an architect with his own firm in upstate New York. He comes to Ukraine about once every two months for a vacation. He was with two very drunk Ukrainian women, one woman’s son, and the other woman’s boyfriend. The women invited me to sit with them. They had the singer in the restaurant sing songs dedicated to John and later to me. They insisted that I dance with them, which I didn’t like at all. But it was more interesting to sit with them and talk then to sit alone. I put away 150 grams of kahor plus a glass or two of the port wine they had ordered. I was lucky I was able to walk back to the hotel.

Monday, April 29

In the morning I got my hot shower, then went down to breakfast at 9:00 am. (the appointed time for breakfast). On the table was a serving of some kind of seafood salad with mayonnaise. The second course was pilmeni (a kind of small ravioli filled with meat) served with butter. I ordered tea and it came with sugar and lemon. I felt this was a very Soviet approach to breakfast—no choice. And I was still having a hard time understanding why they were eating what I would consider dinner at 9:00 in the morning. But it was free and I figured arguing would do no good. There was another woman there who got the same food. She also had a habit of talking to herself. Scary.

I walked down to the travel agency I had seen, hoping to get information on a bus from Yalta to Bachasaray and a train from Simferopol to Kharkiv. The door said the office was open at 9, and it was almost 10. The sign in the window said “otkrito” (open). But the door was locked. Figured.

I walked back to the marketplace, and took marshrutka #15 to Spartak again. I almost bought grapes at the market there, but 16 gryvnias (3 dollars) for a pound of grapes seemed excessive, even if they were big and beautiful. I settled for some apples and juice and dried apricots—these would be my lunch if I followed through on my plan to go hiking after seeing Livadia palace.

From Spartak I took another marshrutka (#5) to the town of Lvadia. I followed a girl and her daughter to a beautiful park, then asked for directions to the palace. Here I learned a new word in Russian. While there is a word palats which sounds like and is translated as “palace”, most of the palaces in Crimea were referred to as dvorets. I never learned why that is. Anyway, I found Lvadia palace, and it was beautiful. I was so amazed to see the places where Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin had met and work (though I was disgusted by the sight of Stalin, and wondered why we had worked together with Stalin when he was responsible for so many bad things in Ukraine). On the upper levels I saw the rooms of the former czar. I was really impressed—they really had money back then.

After seeing the palace, I tried to follow Lonely Planet’s guide to walk to Oreanda. Instead I ended up on some kind of switchback trail that led down the mountainside. I stopped to eat an apple at a lookout over the beach of Livadia. The water was so pure and clean. I walked down to the beach and sat there for a while. I hadn’t prepared for the beach, hadn’t even brought sunblock let alone worn a bathing suit. I was really disappointed in myself for that. But I took off my shoes and rolled up my pants and braved the hot, pointy rocks to put my feet in icy cold water. I decided the beach was a metaphor for living in Ukraine—it was painful and hot one minute, unbearably cold the next with no middle ground, and then you just get used to it.

After about two cycles of hot-cold-hot, I decided it was time to head back to civilization. I realized I was not going to make it to Swallow’s Nest (a famous castle) on foot and I didn’t even want to try. I didn’t want to walk up the hill again, but I didn’t want to be a wimp and take the lift. So I followed the signs for the path “to Yalta”. It was a set of stairs that went behind construction sites where new houses were being built. I saw a skytram stop, but there was no way to get to the entrance from where I was. In fact, many of the gates along the path were locked. But I didn’t want to walk all the way back to Yalta; that would be too far. So found a road and started walking up. Now not only was I walking uphill, I was walking past construction sites and construction workers. Being alone walking past a group of sweaty men was not my idea of a good time, but they didn’t hassle me so that was a relief. Eventually I asked an older couple walking behind me how to get to a bus stop, and the pointed me through a construction site. I walked through it and saw a marshrutka; he hailed another marshrutka going the opposite way to get me back to Spartak. From there, I decided to simply take a taxi so I wouldn’t have to walk up another hill from the market.

When I got back, I changed into my bathing suit, put a skirt and top over it, grabbed a towel from the hotel, and walked to the beach nearby. It was already after 3, though, and it was starting to cool off. I soon returned to the hotel. I had planned to go to the Botanical Garden as well, but feeling tired from my “hike” at Livadia, I took a nap instead.

When I woke up, I was ready for dinner. I had read in Lonely Planet about a nice Georgian restaurant called Tiflis. I had seen it on the road to Livadia. I went down the hill, got on the marshrutka to Spartak, and got on the marshrutka to Lvadia and asked the driver to let me get out at Tiflis (at the last minute, but I got him to stop). When I got to the restaurant, though, they told me they were closed to the public for a banquet! I was really disappointed.

I walked back to the bus stop, and went down the hill. I stopped at an internet café I had seen. I took the marshrutka back to the market square. The Chinese food place I had seen wasn’t open. I knew the Mexican restaurant I had seen didn’t have nachos so I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to spend a lot of money on bland fish again. I went back to Naberezhna Lenina anyway, though, hoping to find something new. I saw a sign for a Slovakian restaurant, but couldn’t tell where it was. Then I saw a sign for a restaurant called “Russian Blini”. I went there, and it was a small outdoor café. I had two cheese (tvorog) blini and one Nutella blini for a dollar. It was so good and inexpensive, I ordered a second plate of the cheese blintzes. And the service was very good.

Tuesday, April 30

In the morning I braved “breakfast” at the hotel once more. This time it was a plate of grilled fish with onions, rice with butter and carrots (like the plof I had had in Sevastopol), and pickled cabbage. I spent most of the morning burping up the onions. Yuck.

Renuka had recommended I take a boat to Swallow’s Nest (a castle built on a cliff which looks like something out of a fantasy novel), and since it was such a beautiful day, I hadn’t managed to get there on foot the day before, and it was only 11 grivnias, it seemed like a good idea. I walked to the travel agency, which this time was open. I told the lady I wanted to take a boat from Yalta to Swallow’s Nest, and also told her I wanted a bus ticket from Yalta to Bachasaray for tomorrow, and a train ticket from Simferopol to Kharkiv also for tomorrow. The woman told me she doesn’t handle bus or train tickets, and that she only handles group tours of Yalta. Very graciously, however, she told me how to get to the train kassa (ticket office) and the bus station, as well as the place to go to get a boat to Swallow’s Nest.

Since the train ticket office was closest, I walked there and got my ticket for tomorrow. I was shocked to see that the signs for the train still said “Leningrad” instead of St. Petersburg. I knew Crimea was very Russian, but that is more Russian than the Russians.

I walked down to the promenade next, figuring I could go to the bus station when I was ready to go to Massandra (wine tasting) in the afternoon. I found a woman selling tickets for the boats, and bought one. I had about half an hour before getting on the boat, then sat and looked out at the scenery and the water. It really was a great day to be on the boat. We got off at the dock at Swallow’s Nest and took lots of pictures of the castle (now a restaurant) and each other. We had to pay 2 grivnias just to walk around the castle. As my friend Peter says, they really take it from the living. The view was okay. The best part was seeing the water. There was also a beach. I decided not to take the boat back (an option because there is also a bus nearby) so that I could stay at the beach. But again, there were gates all around and no way of getting in. I concluded it was only a beach for the guests at the sanatorium (not insane asylum, but something like a motel) or hotel nearby. So I walked up the steps (another bloody hike!) to the road where the buses were going to Alupka. I wanted to go to Alupka because there is a palace there, and also the Massandra complex. I took a marshrutka (it wasn’t 27; maybe 34?) to the Alupka stop. I walked through another park that felt like a forest. It was beautiful. I got to the palace and decided it was too nice outside to be inside a museum. But I had to use the bathroom. I followed the signs for the “WC” and found an attendant charging 1 gryvnia (a lot of money there) for the bathroom. I went ahead and paid and was pleased to see that there was a clean bathroom with clean sit-down toilets. Then I noticed there was no toilet paper. I went back out to the lady and saw 2-feet strips of paper folded over and sitting on the table. I took one strip, grateful that I didn’t have, er, digestive problems that day.

As I was leaving I asked if she knew how to walk down to the beach; she didn’t. But the man I bought a soda from did. He told me to take the second set of stairs, and I understood. And I found the beach. And there was no one there except one man standing 5 or 10 feet away looking at the water. I felt like I had the whole beach to myself. This time I was prepared with a bathing suit underneath my dress and lots of sunblock. I sat there to warm up, then braved the cold water. Eventually I discovered that if I squatted near the water instead of trying to wade in, it was more bearable. Then I could splash the cool water on myself and be refreshed that way. It was possibly one of the best travel experiences of my life. I had never been a “lay out by the beach” fiend before, but maybe I had never worked this hard before or needed it so much before.

Feeling thoroughly refreshed inside and out, I walked back up the hill to the bus stop. I wanted to go to Massandra wines as I mentioned. I asked the bus to stop at Massandra, but the people on the bus said something about going to the bus station first, then to Massandra. On the way we passed a sign that said “Massandra” and I said I wanted to get out. Then the people said and gestured something about drinking wine. I thought they were saying that if I wanted to taste wine I had to go to this farther place.

I took out my Lonely Planet guide, and discovered that the Massandra entrance was walking distance from where I had been (i.e. the first Massandra gate I had seen). I was really annoyed with myself both for not reading it more carefully and for not understanding the other people’s directions. But I decided that the winery wasn’t that important, that it would all be sweet wines anyway (which I don’t like too much), and I should go to the Botanical Garden instead.

When I got to the bus station, I went to the kassa to buy a ticket to Bachasaray for the next day. They said they had no tickets to sell and to come back tomorrow. Ukrainian transit, I have discovered, has a system whereby it sells a certain number of advance tickets, then reserves or adds seats on the day of departure. I figured this is what had happened here.

A couple who had been on the marshrutka from Alupka saw me and asked if I needed help getting to the “other bus” to Massandra. I told them what had happened but thanked them anyway. I took a trolleybus (which moves dreadfully slow) to Spartak,. Then I took Marshrutka #15 up the hill to a stop near Teflis restaurant. I had turkey in nut sauce (a cold dish), dolma with garlic-yogurt sauce (very well spiced), lavash and a dry Georgian wine. It was a classy restaurant with good service and good, original food. I’m not sure it was worth 99 gryvnias though. Maybe if I had gone with a group for a birthday or a big outing it would have been different.

I took marshrutka #15 to the marketplace, and then another marshrutka (#34) to the Botanical Gardens (botansky sod) even though I was tired. Ironically, the bus got stuck right in front of my hotel. There was a tourist bus that was too big to pass the cars on the narrow street, and a small traffic jam developed. I almost got out but decided I’d already paid the money. It took at least 5 minutes before we could get through. The gardens (which cost 5 gryvnias to enter) were nice, but after seeing the flora and views at Chekhov house, Livadia, and Alupka I wasn’t very impressed. Still, I had a chance to sit and think quietly.

I soon took the return bus back to the market. I stopped at a Japanese-style café for tea, but the green tea was really weak.

I returned to the hotel and saw once again where Ukrainian priorities were. I had run out of toilet paper that morning. When I came in the room, the maid had obviously cleaned the room. She had been careful not to throw out the bottle of beer I had drunk the night before which was still more than halfway full. She had given me an extra blanket, apparently figuring out I had been stealing a blanket from the other bed. This was clearly the work of an attentive housekeeper. And yet there was no toilet paper. Perhaps this same attentive person saw in my bag that I had an open roll already (the one I had brought from Sevastopol). I’m not sure. But this combined with the toilet paper rationing at Alupka suggests to me that either toilet paper is a precious and expensive commodity, or not highly valued in Ukrainian society.

Wednesday, May 1

This day was supposed to be a day of exploring but turned out to be merely a long travel day. At 8:00 in the morning, a taxi arrived to take me to the bus station. The driver asked if I was from Poland, saying I had an accent in my Russian but he couldn’t say from where. That was the second time someone had told me that, and I took it as a compliment on my Russian speaking ability. He helped me get my bags to the ticket office, where I got a ticket for the 8:50 bus.

I didn’t realize that the bus would stop in Sevastopol., then go to Bachasaray. On the one hand I didn’t mind taking the scenic route once more. On the other hand it would really cut into my day. But since my guidebook said the Khan’s palace was closed and I didn’t have to leave Simferopol until 10:00 p.m., I figured that would be more than enough time to tour the caves.

We arrived in Sevastopol and I found out there would be a 40-minute layover there. I wasn’t sure what to do for 40 minutes. I wandered over to the rynok, which was tiny. I decided to stock up on provisions for a picnic or hiking food. I bought a loaf of bread (which the attendant sliced for me), 200 grams of cheese, a cucumber (which I sliced with some difficulty with the knife the produce woman gave me), a tomato, and Seven-up. This turned out to be a more important purchase than I realized.

The bus got on its way again, and for an hour we drove inland on a warm day with the air conditioner set on low. I was already missing Yalta. About an hour later the driver announced that we were at Bachasaray. I was shocked. I was expecting a bus station. Instead we were let off on the side of the highway. Two men got off with me, and they led me to the stop where I could catch a bus into town. We all got on the bus, and it went to the train station. It looked like Main Street in a small dusty southwestern town. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend 5 minutes there, let alone the rest of the day. But I was there and felt I should explore. The next problem, though, was that I couldn’t find the left luggage area. It shouldn’t have been hard—it was a really small station. But there was nothing inside, and what I saw on one side looked more like a bathroom than a luggage area. On top of that, the ticket window seemed to be closed for a break. I tried to ask a woman who worked at the café on the other side of the station, but she didn’t understand me. So instead I bought a ticket for another marshrutka (2.50 gryvnias) to Simferopol. I was dropped off at the bus station, where I took ANOTHER marshrutka through the city to the train station. By now I had seen that I was going to have a hard time occupying myself in Simferopol for 9 hours. And my bags were getting heavier by the minute. I kept thinking about Yalta, and the folk festival they were having. If I had known Bachasaray would be a bust, I could have stayed in Yalta one more day and seen the folk festival.

When I got to the train station, I saw that there was a train leaving for Moscow at 2:25 pm. There was a good chance this train would be stopping in Kharkiv. I asked at the information desk, and indeed it was. I asked what time it would get in; she said midnight. I knew I would have to take a taxi home, but at least I could sleep in my bed that night instead of on the train. I went and changed my ticket. For the record, I did all of this in Russian, and the only time I had a misunderstanding was when I thought the woman said the ticket would be 20 dollars (dvadsat) instead of 12 (dvenadsat). So I think that’s progress.

I had just enough time to go to McDonald’s, go to the bathroom, and get a Value Meal to go (I was saving my market food for evening dinner and snacks). The place was really crowded but they had a smiling employee taking orders in line on sheets of paper so I could just hand my order to the cashier. I would have had more time, however, if two women hadn’t cut in front of me. It was one thing when it happened at the train station with an elderly woman and I figured I had to let her in front because of her age, but these women were not that old. Older than me, but not old. Worse, they weren’t getting their food to go. I was so irritated. Couldn’t they see I had a bunch of travel bags? Would it have been so wrong to say “I was here first and I have a train to catch?”

Anyway, I made my train and spent the afternoon reading and napping. Then the man in my compartment asked me to move into the compartment with a young girl so that three people (I guess men) could have the compartment together. I thought it was odd but I grumpily agreed. The girl was a dentist who was on her way to Moscow, and then flying to Greece. I thought it was odd to be going from Simferopol to Moscow to Greece, but I didn’t ask why she didn’t take a boat instead.

Soon enough I was back in Kharkiv. The next morning as it turned cold and turned to pouring rain, I wondered why I was in such a hurry to leave Crimea. Maybe it was just too much beauty to take in at once. Maybe I had been away from “home” too long. Maybe I felt guilty for enjoying myself. Maybe it’s just that all good things must end. I hope the memories will always live on.

Back to Ukraine Page

Home