Krakow to L'viv

My day trip to L'viv got an earlier start than I had planned, as a number of drunks began making a ruckus on the balcony outside my window right at 7am. I had slept fitfully all night, as my roommates consisted of two Brazilians and two Australians...two nationalities not known for going to be early while on vacation. Those guys were in and out of the room all night. Once the noise began at 7, I figured I may as well go on and get up and catch the 8:30 train, rather than the 9:30 train I had planned on. I accompanied a 30-year old black American girl (the first American I have met the entire trip) from the hostel to the train station and right up to her train, for which I was profusely thanked. (I think she was feeling a little lonely...as I was I.) That 20-minute walk together was one of those short encounters in life that leave you glad you had it, but also a little melancholy briefly afterwards...such a nice, agreeable person will only occupy that oh-so-brief period in all the moments of your life. Traveling alone is certainly a great way to meet those "single-serving friends", to borrow an expression from "Fight Club". I have many such memories.

At any rate, I entered the train late, having been a little unsure which car I was supposed to be in and wanting make sure I got on the right train. I managed to find a seat with a family of three and middle-aged guy with a gimp arm (which I did not notice until 2 hours together in the compartment) who smelled of beer early in the day. Communication with all of them was a non-starter as none spoke much of any English and I did not manage to gain any words of Polish during my three-day stay in the country. The talked quite a bit amongst themselves, however, until the beer drinker got off. Later, once we were nearing the Poland-Ukraine border, I got out the Iphone and used google translate to write a question to the father, asking him if he would help me locate a minibus from the train's last stop at Przemysl (pronounced Pah sháh mish) to the border at Medyka. He smiled, showed it to his wife, nodded and smiled. We then began a bit of communication, from which I learned they were coming back home from the beach, which perplexed me at first, not being able to imagine what beach they were coming from. Turns out they had been at a beach on the Baltic Sea in the NW corner of Poland and were completing a 16-hour train journey from one corner of Poland to another.

As the train pulled into the station at the border town of Medyka, they pointed out the minibus I would need to me, and I indicated that would be all the help I would need. I exited the bus, walked over to the minibus, paid the 2 zlotys (under a dollar) for the trip, and we were soon off to the border...even got to listen to "Karma Chameleon" on the radio as we made our way to the border. (The penetration of American culture into the far reaches of the globe never ceases to amaze me.) At any rate, crossing the Polish side of the border was simple enough, but the Ukraine side proved to be a little more interesting, as the border agent spent a significant amount of time, probably five minutes or more, examining my passport. She mostly focused on the extra pages I had added to the passport a few years back when the other visa pages were full, but she also brought out a magnifying glass to study the first pages. I will admit my passport is a little ragged and I have not taken good care of it. During the trek to Macchu Picchu it got soaked...I remember the next time I went across customs with it, in Colombia, the border guard asked me if I had been in "un naufrago", which at the time I did not understand...I will now never forget that word...it means "shipwreck".

At any rate, the guards did not seem that serious during this process and I was never really concerned that they would deny me entry. (I will mention that Americans do not need a visa for Ukraine at this time...thus, why I was there.) However, the examination of the passport did go on for what seemed like a long time...long enough that I broke out the phone again to explain about the extra pages in the passport, as I held up the translation to the clear plastic divider and asked them to read it. They seemed to understand and eventually let me go. Ukrainian border control would give me a little trouble on the way out too a few days later.

Crossing the border I was offered ridiculous prices for cab rides into L'viv. I was not real sure where the bus into town was, but luckily I found someone to help me out. Finding the bus station, I paid the small fare and off we went across the Ukrainian countryside in a rickety Soviet-era bus. I suppose my image of Ukraine coming into the trip was of a country a little more wealthy than how it turned out to be. The countryside was pretty enough, but many other things were rundown and shabbily maintained, from the dwellings to the roads and vehicles and even to the scraggly dogs. I would later learn that yes, the people are in general happier now than they were in Soviet times, but times are not real great either and most people seem to jump at the opportunity to leave.

The Ukrainians I met that spoke English were certainly nice enough and I was in no way mistreated in Ukraine. They did seem a kind of uncouth people though. Men (not bums but regular guys) picking their noses and scratching themselves in public, quite a lot of litter in the streets - I even saw a dog defecating in the middle of a road in the countryside...as if it didn't know better or care to do that sort of thing somewhere a little more private. LOL. And while I am on the subject of the Ukrainian people I have to throw in a few words about the women. What I cannot understand or reconcile is the young, tall, striking females that so heavily populate the streets of L'viv with the old, short, hunchbacked, babushkas (Russian for grandmother) wearing their hair bandannas and thick woolen clothing. I am not sure how that metamorphasis occurs. Or maybe these were just peasant women. At any rate, age is a terrible thing I think. I will choose to stay young.

I got to the train station where the bus ride ended, broke out the Iphone and used the GPS to navigate my way into town. Count on the Soviets to build the damn train station a brisk 30-minute walk from the city center. I checked into a great little hostel, the Old City Hostel, where I would spend the next day and a half.