A New Career?

Lviv, Ukraine, May 24, 2015, 6:30 AM

Yesterday I went to  the Ivano Franko National University here in Lviv to look into the possibility of teaching English.

It was a bit confusing finding my way as the roads kind of wind around and go off on angles and it's easy, for me at least, to get a bit lost.

And I also found the same confusion on the winding stairways and extensive network of hallways within the great building that houses this grand old Ukrainian university.

Quite ancient, the solid hard stone stairs are remarkably worn down. My footsteps must have been preceded by those of a lot of students over many years to have caused this to occur. Indeed it was founded in 1661.

The guard on the first floor spoke no English, so I showed him the number of the room I was seeking and he seemed to indicate that no one was there. It being Saturday this is what I was kind of expecting anyway but, on a chance, I decided to check further.

I wandered the halls and walked up and down the stairways,  asked questions of people I saw on the way and eventually found room 304,  the room number given to me by the Canadian I had met last evening.

It was an empty classroom.

So I wandered around some more asking more questions and ended up on the fourth floor where I was taken by a woman to the end of a hallway where I met the chairman of the department of English.

He went to some pain to tell me they could not pay me for teaching, but was delighted to learn that I was not expecting to be paid.

We talked about my qualifications, but just briefly, there being none other than  the ability to read, write and speak American English which appeared to be more than sufficient.

There was no discussion of forms to fill out, or academic credentials other than my mentioning of my majors at the college and graduate schools I attended, but this was only an off the cuff mention and there was no real discussion of these.

Thinking about this now, it occurs to me to be a wonderful and exceedingly rare case of bureaucracy not rearing its ugly head.   And, amazingly, in the academic world of all places.

The chairman indicated that I could teach as much or as little as I wanted to, probably a couple of days a week. They have one American doing this now although he is a "workaholic" and teaches a full day every day which I certainly would not want to do.

As for the course material, there doesn't seem to be any and no fixed curriculum.  He indicated the course material could be along the lines of whatever interests me, like say, politics or history.  Or teaching from newspapers.

I mentioned the Kyiv Post, but, quickly got the idea that it should be American newspapers and maybe local American newspapers as opposed to say the New York Times. Maybe the Financial Times would be good. Not sure how this would work or be done. Most unusual.

There probably would be one class that I would teach of say 50 students and then also a smaller class of say 5 to 10.

He then took me to the office of, and introduced me to, the Dean of Foreign Language Studies. The three of us sat at the end of a small conference table.  The dean and I across from each other and the chairman at the end.  The dean, if I recall correctly, may have started off talking in English but was very soon talking wholly in Ukrainian with the chairman translating to English.

This was, at first, a bit confusing as they were both speaking to me and it took me a few minutes to realize the chairman was not speaking for himself but instead translating at the same time the dean was speaking.  Pretty impressive and a unique experience for me to be involved in.

I was pleased to note that I recognized a number of the dean's Ukrainian words,  but maybe this was more a reflection of the contemporaneous translation than my real comprehension.

I threw in some of the few Ukrainian words I know, from time to time, which seemed to please or amuse them.

Both of them were very eager to have me teach, and on seemingly any basis I wished to do so.  The chairman said that UK based English was the norm here and American English was rare and I got the idea it was more highly valued for that reason.

Concluding our discussion the Dean gave me a brief guided tour of their facilities. They showed me some classrooms and the faculty meeting room for the department and treated me like a highly valued potential recruit.

One of the classrooms contained 10 or 15 students.  They looked very young, curious and intelligent.  With the dean showing me around I felt like an important visiting dignitary. This I found to be very pleasant, and flattering, but also made me a bit nervous as to their expectations of what I had to offer.

While they could not pay me, or pay for my lodging, they would help find a flat for me. One could be found say 40 minutes or so from the city center by trolley where it's far less expensive for say $100 per month.

While I thought this might not be where I wanted to be,  maybe being there would be a more accurate reflection of common urban life than the historic center and thus an interesting new learning experience.

They also could give me a ticket for one meal a day in the cafeteria which is in the basement of the large building.  But, they were quick to add this was not much in monetary terms as it only cost around $1.

But I think it is buffet style with all you can eat. and possibly this is restricted to students and faculty so it would be compensation of real value.  To say nothing of the valuable experience of "hanging out" here with students and/or faculty.

The dean then shook my hand and said good by and the chairman took me around some more showing me the faculty room for the department pointing out its fine view of the city.

He told me they had limited equipment but, I think, overhead projectors and there was some discussion of using power point for presentations.

The chairman said he would think about the best way to go about all of this and that we should get together sometime in the next few days and possibly with the American who has been teaching, but is leaving, in just a matter of days.

Earlier we had exchanged email addresses and phone numbers by emailing and phoning each other.

In saying good by, he again expressed his appreciation for my being willing to do this and shaking my hand said he was "honored" to meet me and I said the honor was mine.

With all the excitement of the previous day, I had gotten little sleep and was somewhat exhausted, which is why I believe I began to get second thoughts about this whole business.

However, after a good night's sleep I am thinking positively again.  This could be an exciting new set of experiences.  Just as I have done on this entire travel adventure, I think the best course of action is to let events lead me wherever they wish.

So far, at least, that has led to far more interesting and enjoyable experiences than I ever would have thought possible.

Carpe Diem!

Or perhaps better yet, Go with the Flow?

Maestro

Lviv, Ukraine, May 23, 2015, 10 AM

Yesterday was a welcome change from all the sunny days as I hoped to catch up with my blog, email, and other stuff.

I hunkered down in my hotel room and kept glancing at the window and was glad to see the sun did not come out as I knew I could not resist going out into this beautiful city if it did.

In the early afternoon, however, I could resist no longer and went to my favorite Lviv coffee house to continue my effort to catch up on my computer.  But first, I decided I had to check on the symphony and opera schedules so I wouldn't miss a perhaps fleeting opportunity to visit both or either while I am in town.

It was good that I did as I found out that very evening was the opening concert of a series of special concerts entitled "Classic For Peace".  Its scheduling conflicted with the opera that I would have chosen, Rigoletto, but the selection of music was so compelling (Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostakovich) and the event so special,  I decided to go to the symphony, the Lviv Philharmonic Orchestra, that very night and see Mozart's Don Giovanni at the opera on Sunday evening . Wonderful indeed to have such difficult choices to make!

Had the composition not been entitled the overture to "Romeo and Juliet", and had Tchaikovsky not have long passed from this world except, of course, living on in his music, I would have believed he had written this piece specifically for this very special occasion.

From the opening deep, low mournful tones to succeeding, contrasting passages of violence, triumph, resignation and peace, the music seemed to me to perfectly evoke current life in Ukraine.

And whether it was due to the nature of the occasion or the quality of the music or its performance or my recent experiences or indeed all of these influences, I could not then, or now as I write, recall a more captivating or moving musical performance.

The succeeding pieces were as wonderful as the first and the conductor ....... but wait hold it here......  just as I am writing this now in the hotel restaurant, I notice a man, who just came in, sit down alone at a  table directly in front of mine and he looks very much like the Swedish conductor, Ilya Stupel, who conducted last night's performance. Just as I am about to write down my impressions of him.

Of course, this cannot be him. It would be too much of a coincidence. But, just to be sure, I look up images of him on Google and this man does indeed look like Maestro Stupel. So I go over and ask and it is indeed he.  He invites me to sit down and we talk interrupted only by brief phone calls from his wife in Sweden and his daughter in Los Angeles, for which he, certainly unnecessarily but graciously apologizes.

I tell him how much I enjoyed the performance last night.   Thinking he was a visiting conductor, I inquire as to his feelings about being the one to lead this special performance for Ukraine.  He tells me that he is, in fact, the Music Director (the main conductor and the artistic director) of the Lviv Philharmonic.

Lviv, Ukraine's third largest city, is its cultural capital.  Equivalent or superior, in my mind to Vienna and Prague considered by many  to be Europe's most small to medium sized beautiful cities. And hold it here.  A day later from writing the rest of this  post and just as I am adding this paragraph, a guy bumps my chair as he sits down at the next table and says he's sorry in perfect American English. So I ask him  where he is from.

It turns out he lives in Philadelphia, the next major city north of Baltimore where I live. He is of Ukrainian descent, has a business which brings him here and has a flat in Vienna. So I ask him how he would compare Vienna with Lviv.  And he mentions, of course, the high cost of  living in Vienna, so in contrast to the very  low cost in Lviv.

In further talking with him, I am pleased to find out that he too thinks things are moving, while slowly,  in the right direction here in Ukraine, as far as dealing with the corruption. He talks of a very significant new development: the far greater transparency today than existed with previous governments.

OK. Now back to my conversation with Maestro Stupel. He asks me where I am from, and I tell him I live in Baltimore, only a few blocks from the Symphony hall and attend all the concerts.  In answer to his question, I tell him, though certainly no expert, that I was very impressed with the quality of his orchestra and particularly the performance of the concert master (principal violinist) in the performance of Rimsky Korsakov's "Scheherazade".

He tells me the orchestra has many fine musicians and that prior to the war it was composed almost wholly of Jewish musicians, whose excellence inspires the current members of the orchestra and that the survivors of   the orchestra before the war went on to found the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra.

We talk about the fine performance of the cello soloist in the Prokofieff piece which he said is a very difficult to perform which confirmed my impression as I heard it. I mention how remarkable, to me, was the cellist's almost overwhelming and real  emotion in performing it.

During the intermission at the symphony,  I met a man from Albany, New York who told me had been visiting Ukraine for over 20 years.  We talked only briefly as we had met just moments before the end of the intermission when we had to return to our seats.

After the concert, I rushed out hoping to catch him and get his email address which I was able to do. I believed, given his extensive experience with Ukraine and his American English, he could be an invaluable resource with regard to any questions I met have in the future.

I was pleased to see that he had not left the hall before me and we exchanged email addresses.  He introduced his wife who suggested we go where we could sit down and talk.

The three of us then talked for 2 hours or so.  Of Ukrainian ancestry, they are Canadians now living in the U.S. where their children and grandchildren live. Both of them taught English to Ukrainians in small villages for a number of years then at the leading University here in Lviv.

in our conversation, I was able to ask and get answers to many of my questions about Ukraine, including the fact that they believe the government has taken real steps toward dealing with corruption unlike in the past and there is indeed hope with the present government that this time is really different. All of this was good to hear especially at it was in contrast to a recent article in the N.Y. Times, and my very limited and purely anecdotal evidence to the contrary from recent discussions in my travels. But it was consistent with what I believed before coming here by closely following the situation in the news online.

Before I could ask what was on my mind, possibly teaching English here, she suggested I consider doing just that and he wrote down who to see at the University which tomorrow (actually later today) I plan to set out to do.

I have just enough experience as a teacher having taught one day of math at a student teachers' day in high school and one day of finance to non-finance managers at the last company I worked for, to know this could be fun and that I may even have some talent for it.

I see all kinds of pluses here though financial reward is certainly not one of them as this has to be a volunteer endeavor.  But it would be a chance to be further involved and spend time in Ukraine and make a real, however, small contribution and to possibly learn to speak Ukrainian which I believe I could do with this kind of involvement.

A totally new "career" and experience at a point in life when I believe such opportunities are to be particularly valued for consideration.

In my conversation with Maestro StupeI we talked about what a marvelous city of culture Lviv is.  I mentioned this was my second time in Ukraine and he asked me if I would be coming here again. I told him I might be coming back in the fall to teach English at the university and he was most encouraging, indicating it could take, I think he said, 50 years off my age, exactly what I had been thinking. Well perhaps not quite 50 years.

As we parted Maestro Stupel told me that when he is in Lviv, he stays at the hotel and when I return here to mention him and there will always be tickets for me at the desk.

How nice. And amazing! As this great conductor stood on the podium last night it did not, nor could it  possibly have entered my mind that I would be having a personal conversation with him the very next morning and receiving career and life advice from him as well !

And what an incredible coincidence.  Just as I am starting to write a sentence describing his conducting style he appears at the table directly in front of me in a room filled with many other tables  at which he could have sat, where I most likely would have never seen him.

One of the many reasons I to travel is the wonderful and totally unforeseen experiences that can occur.

And this was, certainly, one of the best.

Mukachevo to Lviv

Lviv, Ukraine, May 22, 2015, 5 AM

Yesterday is my last day in Mukachevo and I want to get some pictures of two of the churches in town. When I get near them I hear singing.  Both are holding services, and as happens here, they are being attended both inside and outside of the churches.  I take some great videos except I have pushed the wrong button on my new camera so that they don't actually take.  Fortunately, I get some nice stills.

As it is Thursday, I think this must be a special event and determine later that it is, a national celebration of Ukraine's independence with Ukrainians wearing traditional clothes demonstrating they are unique and not part of Russia as the latter's propaganda tries to imply.

The two churches are less than a block from each other and by standing  midway between them you can actually attend both, hearing the music and prayers from each played over loudspeakers for the attendees outside. A great way for those of us to catch up that don't attend services often.  I assume one of the churches is Catholic and the other Orthodox the two competing religions here.

While killing time back at the Inn, before heading to the train station, I have a nice chat, out on the balcony/patio overlooking the garden, with the couple who have been so helpful to me in communicating with the Inn manager   They are from Eastern Ukraine, but not near the conflict and it is safe where they live.

I tell then where I am going, Lviv and Kiev, and ask where else I should go in Ukraine.  He says Crimea is very nice. Since Crimea has been annexed by Russia, tourism there is way down.  I would not want to go there, although he says it is safe.

He says he likes all people, Russians, Ukrainians (which they are), Polish, Slovakians etc.  He does not want to talk about politics.  He just wants peace.  Like the taxi driver's friend said of Ukrainians, he is "not political".

I take a taxi to the train station and arrive over an hour ahead of time.  Less stress that way. I read the train status sign {only in Ukrainian) and am able to decipher which train is mine and that it's apparently on time. Then I decipher my boarding pass using Google Translator on my smartphone to identify the train car and boarding seat I'm to be on.

Out on the platform, I face the most challenging part of this journey.  Getting the right train and getting on the right car.  Another train pulls into the station while I am waiting on a different platform at the same time as my train is due which causes me some alarm. However, it has only a few cars on it and, I am able to get assurance from two ladies nearby that it's not my train.

The long distance train I am about to take (hopefully) is very long 50 to 100 cars (I think, no time to count them).  Much to my personal satisfaction, I am able to communicate with the two women all in Ukrainian.  They are getting on car "decit" (10) and I on car "deviat" (9). So I stick close to them.  As the train pulls in, I try to read the car numbers and never do see them, looking at the two women they are shaking their heads not having seen their car either.  Then they do and I show my boarding pass to the conductor at the next car who gives no answer to my question, Lviv?,  but takes it and seems to indicate I should get on which I do.

I find my way to my seat (23) and there a young guy assists me in lifting up the bunk bed seat and storing my suitcase under it. He then quickly buries his head in a book he is reading and is hoping, I assume, he will not have to make conversation with this stranger.

Certainly one of life's trials is to be seated next to someone, usually on a plane, who wants to talk when you just want to be left alone, So I am sympathetic even relieved to encounter this.

I take pictures of the countryside, "the last wilderness in Europe". Very green, with small mountains, lots of streams and brooks. It is the "Transcarpathian" district in Western Ukraine with mild temperatures in Winter and Summer as well as Spring and Fall.  A great place to wind down and "get away". For the price of my 4 1/2 hour train ride (about $7), I get to "drive" through it in the most pleasant way.

Unexpectedly, I find myself chatting easily with my compartment companion.  He is a student at the University in Lviv and part of a group growing some kind of crystal used in controlling temperature and gasses.  Another group in Russia is working on the same thing, but his group has grown a much bigger crystal, for which his quite proud.

The student shows me, on his computer, a presentation he is going to be making to try to explain what it's all about, but this doesn't work too well for us as it is all in Ukrainian.  His English is quite good, although, like all Ukrainians I have met that speak some English, he apologizes for his lack of fluency. As with the others, I tell him with more exposure, he would be quite fluent in no time.  But, they get little practice here, especially now with tourism being down.

I ask him if he will have to serve in the military.  He says not for 2 years when he will no longer be a student. I say, hopefully, that by then there will not be a need, although my reading of history indicates that wars always continue longer than anyone expects. As for job prospects, they are good for him given his training in technology, but not in Ukraine.  And he doesn't want to leave Ukraine.  Like all Ukrainians I have met, he loves his country.

We talk about the corruption here and he thinks that maybe in 100 years things will be better.  Not encouraging.  Such an intractable problem, I think.  Such a shame.  This country has so much potential for growth starting from a low base.  Even poorer than when the Soviet Union broke up.  It has great natural resources, being "the bread basket of Europe" and most importantly its people, educated with literacy in the high 90s percentile, beautiful cities and countryside, and quite safe except in the Eastern war zone.. A tourist's paradise at unparalleled low cost.

At the station, I am approached by a taxi driver.  I counter his price of 70 hryvnias with 50 and with a resigned but pleasant smile, he counters with 60 which I accept.

I note how busy this city feels after my stay in the country town of Mukachevo.  Normally, I take public transportation into a city, but it is now night and dark, and I am not looking for more challenges and eager to bed down in my hotel.

I sit in the front seat with the taxi driver and as we talk, all in Ukrainian (much to my self-satisfaction), I learn that he has relatives in America, the description of one of which I recognize, "sister".

I decide to give him the price he had asked as it is less the $4 and certainly worth it to me and I'm sure he can use it.

At the hotel, I am pleased to see the pleasant young woman desk clerk who recognizes me from my visit last spring,

My hotel room appears to me to be the quintessence of luxury compared to my more modest dwellings to this point, yet at a fraction of the price I would pay in a comparable city in America or Europe.

I am very happy to be "back home" in Lviv.

Young Soldiers

Mukachevo, Ukraine May 20, 2015, 5:40 AM

Yesterday I decide to find a place to do my laundry.  My usual strategy when I travel, is to hand wash and then dry my clothes, pressing them in super absorbent micro fiber towels and then hanging them up to dry overnight.  But here I've let things pile up, so that's not going to work.

Using sign language and showing my plastic bag with dirty clothes in it, I ask the Inn manager who doesn't speak any English at all and doesn't have his "translation machine" (Google on a laptop) to tell where I can go to accomplish this task.  He solicits the aide of a young couple staying in an adjacent room and we all pore over a Google map.

Next I head out walking across the bridge into the town center and down a street where I know I am close to the laundromat, but don't see it. So I go in a store and am given directions.

Walking back down the street I overshoot and one of the women in the store I was talking to, comes running down the street to redirect me.

Finally, in the right place (lots of large upright cleaning machines) I'm told they don't do laundry here. They indicate they only do dry cleaning by pointing out the racks of clothes on hangers.

I ask "de" (where).  The woman shakes her head no.  I can't believe this. A town of 80,000 and there is no place to get your clothes cleaned or do them yourself at a laundromat? Then, one of the women puts on plastic gloves.  She is going to do my laundry, but her supervisor says no.  This is the first time I've experienced someone not being way more than helpful here.

I stand there hoping they will change their minds, but they are ignoring me so  I  leave.

I go to the cafeteria where I eat breakfast every day.  Again talking with sign language and limited common language (my Ukrainian, their English) I am told the place to go is where i've just been.  When the woman I'm talking to  understands that they don't do laundry there any more she laughs and rubs her hands together in a way to indicate I must do it myself.

While I am eating breakfast two women come to my table and indicate they will do my laundry here. They have cleaning machines on the premises. They ask me where I am staying, but don't recognize the name of the small inn I am staying in.  Apparently, they were even going to deliver it to me.  I say I will be back tomorrow and hand them my bag of dirty clothes.

I'm feeling really good about this. I figured I was going to travel to Lviv (my next city) with a bag of dirty,and smelly (if truth be told) clothes.  So this is great.  Mission accomplished!

I work on my blog at one of my favorite cafes and then head out to see the castle.  I catch the right bus, get something to eat at the restaurant at the base of the castle hill and then head up the long hill on what is now a hot sunny day.  Perfect for taking pictures.

 Walking up the hill, I pause to catch my breath, turn around look down the hill and see my "Russian" friend walking up the hill, or at least I think it's him.  He gives no greeting or smile of recognition, but we talk familiarly as I join him in walking on up the hill.

Around a bend in the road I see the painter is there with his paintings spread out against the wall.  I thought yesterday he said he wouldn't be coming today, but he has.  Unlike the Russian, he greets me warmly and shakes my hand.  We look at his paintings and he offers me a glass of wine which I decline. I don't want to get waylaid again.

Up the road I  continue into the Palonok Castle which is indeed a formidable structure with a turbulent history.

I take a bunch of pictures including some of the Mukachevo town center far in the distance using the zoom lense which came with my new camera.  It's a bit heavy and I almost didn't bring it with me, but now as in Budapest where I used it to take pictures of the Parliament from the castle across the river, I'm really glad I have brought it. The town center is so far away, that I've taken pictures of the right spot til I see this picture below when I download it to my computer.  The zoom lenses makes it appear far closer than it is.

After walking back down the long hill, I ask the two young men in the bus stop if this is where to catch the bus back to town. We talk in broken English and Ukrainian and establish that this is indeed the right place and the bus is the number 3.

The two guys are quite tipsy and, I assume, have been enjoying more than a couple of beers in the nearby cafe/bar.  They ask me to take their picture and tell me they are both soldiers, the one in uniform positioning his hands and arms  like he is holding a rifle. He tells me he has been to Donetsk and is going to be heading soon to Luhansk, both cities in the East where the fighting is going on. They indicate that it is really bad and although they are jovial, there is a feeling of sadness and melancholy in the air.  The one in the uniform asks me if I am a father and I tell him I am.

The bus arrives.  We get on and sit together after the soldier in uniform pushes himself onto the edge of the seat across from the seat the other guy and I are on. Hia doing this causes the two young women already occupying the two seater to get up and move.

Handsome, strong and brash, with startling blue eyes, I figure this guy is used to getting his way and not overly considerate of others.  Although jovial and friendly, there is a bit of recklessness and menace in the way he acts.

And yet, when they stand up to get off at the next stop, he takes care to tell the bus driver where I am going and asks that he sees that I get off at the right stop.

Just as they are getting off,  he turns to me,  reaches for my hand, and presses it to his forehead.

And then, they are gone.

Art and War

Mukachevo, May 19, 2015, 5AM

Yesterday I decided to go to the station to get my boarding pass printed out which I'd ordered online for my new departure date three days hence.  I like it here so much I decided to stay longer, even though I need to subtract the equivalent number of days  I will be able to spend in Lviv.

After much asking around I figured out which of the many minibuses to take. The numbering system is confusing to me. My system is to get on the bus and say to the driver in my broken Ukrainian where I want to go. Sometimes a passenger who knows a little English will help us figure this all out.  From this I find it's the number 9 bus.

At the station i am able to show my boarding pass on my smartphone and get the boarding pass printed.  Then I walk around the station and take pictures.  it is a beautiful day and they are painting the station a bright yellow. It looks very nice and I wonder where they get the money to do this with the economy down so far and who decides to do this.



Then i notice this hotel.  Go over and check it out. It's quite nice and  maybe I'll stay even longer, in Mukachevo. My Inn is filled up after my current departure date. But this hotel is only 10 minutes from the town center by bus which I now know how to work, so this would be convenient to the town center too.

Next I want to get the bus to visit the castle.  It turns out I have to bus back to town to get the bus  to the castle.  This takes a while to figure out after i realize the bus I am waiting for doesn't show up here. This nice young woman helps me figure this out.  We talk a mixture of English and Ukrainian. She tells me she understands English but finds it more difficult to speak it.   I find it just the opposite. I can speak it (what little I can ) but find it harder to understand.

Back to town and I get on the right bus to the castle and am sitting next to this old guy (I realize I'm as old or older than most of the "old" people I see, but I see that as a positive .. my not thinking this til I think about it).  I ask him in Ukrainian if he is Ukrainian.  I know he is but it is something I know how to say in the language. He says yes in Ukrainian. I tell him I'm American.  He gives me a friendly smile and says "delaco".  I recognize the word but can't remember what it means til i look it up on my smartphone later It means "far away".  I tell him I am  going to the castle hoping he will tell me where to get off.

Good thing I did this as I thought the bus drove up to the castle.  When we are at the foot of this high hill on which the castle sits, he gets up and steps back indicating I should get off here which I do. Had he not done this, I would have stayed on the bus and missed my stop.


Another long hill to climb which seems to be a big part of my tourist activities but, gives me something to brag about and is great exercise.

Two paths diverge on the way to the castle.  Channeling Frost, I say to myself "and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference".  As it turned out, it really did, as I never made it up to the castle.

1/3 of the way up the hill I see these 2 guys in front of some paintings.  I stop to talk to them. I'm taking every chance I get to talk Ukrainian as I saw a Ted talk where this guy explained how he learned to talk 5 languages.  After many different courses and diligent hard work he found that none of this worked for him but just plunging into talking with people did.  So I am doing this and think it works far better than you'd think.  I think there are many reasons why this works including that we connect visual cues, and use  sign language with greater "live" motivation than reading out of a book and with the greater support and interest for learning live with another person.

I talk to the two guys and strangely they don't try to sell me the paintings, but just seem to want to talk. Part of the less aggressive nature of the people here I've noted before.  I like the paintings and buy a little one for $10 and pull out a $20 bill as the painter quoted the price to me in dollars   He takes the money and runs down the hill for change before I can stop him to give him the right change in local currency which i did have.

He comes back up the hill, sweating and out of breath and gives me the right change or maybe a little more. We get talking and I ask if they can mail the paintings to me as there is another I really like but it won't fit in my suitcase. A long discussion amongst the three of us ensues.  The painter's friend speaks broken English, the painter none at all.

The painter offers me the bigger painting I like for 1/2 the price written on it which results in it being about $15 and I pay him in hryvnias this time

It turns out we need to go to get the proper documentation for customs and can get this at the artists' school in town.  So off all three of us go to do this.  The painter packs up his paintings and rides off on his bicycle.  The other guy and I walk down the hill and take the bus into town.  We get to know each other during the hour or so we spend walking down the hill, taking the bus, walking about town and waiting for the painter to arrive at the art school on his bicycle.

My new friend, the painter's friend is 62, He is a retired electrical engineer, speaks 5 languages reflecting the four places he's lived: Estonia, Ukraine, Russia, and Hungary. But his heart is in Russia.  He tells me, in answer to my question, that the Russians are not fighting in Ukraine, that the Americans are.  The Russians could be in Kiev  in a couple of days if they wanted to. Russia isn't fighting with Ukraine.  Ukraine is fighting with itself (civil war). I don't argue with him just ask questions.  He modifies this to say both Americans and Russians are fighting in Ukraine but they are "doing it for money" (mercenaries).

When our bus arrives in town he tells me we will have to wait for the painter as it takes longer to ride a bike here than take the bus, even tho we had to wait for the bus and it seemed to take a winding way, and the painter got a head start on us as we had to walk down the hill and wait for the bus.

I suggest we go get a cup of coffee, my treat.  He demurs and suggests we walk about town.  So we do, though i'd rather sit down.  He gives me a guided tour and points out some things I'd missed:  the statue of a famous Transcarpathian (the region we're in) author (history not fiction).  The angel who saved the city from the enormous rains that flooded up to the top of the river bank but not over. The amount of water to do this is incredible since there is a lot of low land next to the river that had to be filled prior to the river's climbing the bank.

We then walk to the painting school, but the painter has not arrived. My new friend calls him on his cell phone but there is no answer.  He figures he doesn't  hear the phone as he is riding his bike. While we are waiting he walks me over to a statue of a man with a cat. You pet the cat's head and the man's hand for good luck which I did.  I believe luck is very important and believe I've had more than my fair share, but don't want to take this for granted. So I pet the cat and the man's hand.

This whole venture is, of course, taking up the better part of the day by now and I haven't seen the castle.  But, I tell myself, this live experience and getting to talk to the people is more important and I can go see the castle tomorrow since I've extended my visit to Mukachevo.

The painter arrives and we walk into the painting school.  While there, I feel a connection to home, seeing a copy of one of my favorite paintings, Bruegel's "Hunters in Winter" a copy of which I have in my living room and also having had the good fortune to see the original years ago in Vienna.

They get me to write down my name, but can't read it as they gave me a grease pencil and a tiny piece of paper to squeeze it on. So I show them my passport from which they can read and copy my name, but it turns out they have no other need for my passport for the document they are preparing.They fill out and print this document on the computer.

I have no clue what it says, of course, but figure they know what they're doing. The "Russian" tells me I have to give them, I think it was, 5 hryvnias (about 25 cents) or maybe it was less, for printing the document, which I do.

We walk outside and it appears we are not going to the post office.  The guy in the art school has apparently told them they are likely to "lose" the paintings in the post office. So what now?

An argument erupts between the Russian and the painter.  Finally I ask the Russian what they are saying. He says the painter wants to go get a cup of coffee and introduce me to a guy who speaks good English.  Great idea in my mind. But the Russian decides to leave and I thank him.  Earlier when I took pictures he did not want his picture taken. I'm not sure why.  Playing hooky from work? No, I think he's retired.  Somehow involved with the military?

The painter takes me to this small cafe, just 3 tables, all filled, and introduces me to this guy and then we leave (i'd wanted to ask him to talk to the painter and clarify why we weren't going to the post office).

We go to a nearby cafe and get a cup of coffee. During all our time together the painter talks directly to me non stop, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I don't speak Ukrainian.  The few phrases I know, i speak well enough to make some people think I can understand them far better than I do.

The painter writes his name and telephone number on the back of his paintings. I would call him if I had more time here just to sit and talk as he is not deterred by my lack of comprehension and I think I could learn from him  to speak this language if I persisted with it long enough.  I find it great fun to try to do this although I believe I lack any natural talent for learning languages.

I ask him if he is Ukrainian, knowing of course that he is, but this is one of my very limited number of phrases I can use to make conversation.  He tells me he is not Ukrainian.  I ask him again if he is Ukrainian, and I am sure he says no.  So I get the waiter to come over who speaks fair English.  He tells me the painter is Romanian, but he has lived here all his life. Interesting.  He doesn't consider himself Ukrainian.

We leave the cafe and shake hands but he wants to take me one more place.  He has already introduced me to a couple of painters who are painting on the square. We walk into this store with paintings on the walls for sale and art supplies.  He handles and looks at a tube of paint. I go into the archway looking into the next room with paintings on the wall.  When I turn around, he is gone.  I walk to the door, look out and see him riding away. This makes me feel a little odd but I say to myself that we had already shook hands and I guess said goodby when he suggested he take me to this store.

I walk back to my Inn and tell the manager at the desk I want to send these paintings back to America. He is a take charge guy. Although he doesn't speak any English he talks into his lap top with a translator and a woman's voice says in English what he's saying in Ukrainian. A little disconcerting until I realize it's really him talking, but in a woman's voice.

He rushes me over to the neighborhood post office where they tell us they can't do what we want. So he tells me he has to take me to the "new" post office (or rather the woman inside the computer tells me this).  We will go at 5 o'clock, 45 minutes from now. Great, I am exhausted and can lie down for a bit.

I then take a quick picture of my paintings, in case I never see them again after they disappear into the postal system.  Not well posed, but not necessary as it won't matter if I never see them again to have good pictures just to disappoint me.

As I look at the pictures they are beginning to look better and better. Perhaps, it's because of the effort put into getting and dealing with them?  I am no expert in art, but my daughter who minored in art history in college will be able to tell me.  And the Russian kept telling me how good the painter is and, of course, most importantly, I like them.

But, they definitely won't fit in my suitcase and I would rather not lug them around, so it is with hope in my heart that we head out to the "new" post office.  Strangely, rather than heading into town we are heading away from the center. But, we soon arrive at a post office, but it sure doesn't look new.  The clerk in this post office shakes her head no.

So we jump back in the car and the inn manager drives like hell which is ok since I am in the back seat.  (He had waved me from taking the front seat which had a lot of animal hair on it.)  Also reassuring are rosary beads and a cross hanging from the mirror as in this part of the world saints protect you from peril.



Our first stop is at the lawyer's office.  I can now read the Cyrillic alphabet which is a great joy because when you do, words reveal themselves which are similar in English. The word when sounded out is "Advocate" which I know in Portuguese is the word for lawyer. Out from the office comes a woman and I think maybe, she is, and we are going to need, a lawyer to process this transaction.  Or maybe she's the manager's  wife.

At the post office we go to one clerk she sends us to another who confers with another in a back room. The Inn manager gets in an argument with them and says, in disgust, the first word that I've understood him say to me "bureaucrat".  He prevails, however, and it turns out they are going to set themselves to this difficult task. And with enthusiasm as well, as all of us participate in wrapping the package.

The manager and I write the addresses, Inn for return, and mine for destination. I pay 460 hryvnias or rather 60 less which the manager advances to me.  He knows I'm good for it since he had me pay the extra 3 days up front I'm staying here.

When we walk out of the post office, I suggest we go to a Bankomat (ATM), but he waves me off saying "Zatra" (tomorrow). He then says good by and I understand I am to walk back to the Inn as he drives home with the lady who I think is his wife.

Elated, I walk home, take a shower and walk to my favorite restaurant by the river, just a block from my Inn.

While I'm sitting there, after ordering for dinner, I realize I know one of the two guys sitting at the next table.  I think he's the taxi driver who was so appreciative of my tip, just 50 cents. I figure if that's him he will recognize me and as his friend goes to the WC, he looks over and a look of recognition lights up his face.

I had been thinking of lining him up to take me to the train station a few days hence, but decided this would be too complicated to transact with our limited linguistic comparables and would not want to be waiting for him after miscommunicating and have him not show up and miss my train.  But, then it occurs to me to get his cell phone number and I can call him on the day of my departure rather than trying to do this in advance where he might forget or other things intervene to prevent his arriving on time.

He comes over to my table with his beer and sits down and then his friend, after some apparent reluctance, but much urging, joins us.

Both the taxi driver and his friend are Ukrainian and natives to this town, Mukachevo.  They both teach "physical culture" (gym teachers or coaches).  The friend is the taxi drivers "coach" and it turns out my taxi driver is a world class walking athlete. Or was some years ago when he won the Soviet championship competing, he tells me waving his arms with great pride, with athletes from Belarus, Russia, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan.  The friend is now 42 and the taxi driver,I think, 5 years older.

The friend asks me how old I am and looks both startled and incredulous when I reply.  We then make sure we are talking about the same number (my age) by trying to repeat it in both languages and finally, the taxi driver enters it on his phone to show me and be sure we've got it right.  I find this conversation very satisfying.

They ask me why i am in Ukraine. I say tourist. They re-ask, apparently, thinking I must be here for some other reason.  Then they want to know why I decided to come here.  I tell them it is a beautiful country i find very interesting and off the beaten track and very good value because of the favorable exchange rate.  All this, of course is in broken English and my very very broken Ukrainian.  The friend keeps apologizing for his English.  People here don't expect foreigners to speak Ukrainian, but think they should be able to speak English.

I ask them about the war with Russia.  They tell me Russia has a very bad government, but they do too.  They do not think much of Poroshenko, the Ukrainian, President, or, I believe, the Prime Minister either.

The taxi driver says, repeatedly, that the Ukrainian people are good people and the friend says repeatedly the people are not "political".  My reading of Ukraine current history tells me that since the break up of the Soviet Union, and Ukraine's  independence, Ukraine has been pillaged by one government after another. Indeed prior to the recent revolution, Ukraine has been ranked even lower than Russia in corruption which is
no mean fete!

We talked about the War with Russia. I've noted soldiers everywhere here as I walk about town.  The taxi driver says many of his friends and, I think, his brother have been called up and that he may have to go tomorrow.  I say then he will not be able to take me to the train station.  They both laugh, thinking I'm making a very bad joke about it being all about me.  But, I said this just to see if I've understood him about when he's going.  I think they tell me he could be called up at any time because he is in the reserves.  The friend may be called too, but it appears that is less imminently likely.

The taxi driver is quite emotional about the men dieing, especially the very young.  I say war is stupid.  The friend agrees with me.  It seems such an unnecessary waste to me.  Why do people do this?  You say it's Putin not the people?  And yet he is very popular with the Russians, just as Bush was in the beginning with Americans until they woke up to what he was doing.

The taxi driver tells me he loves Ukraine. The people are very good.  It is a beautiful country.  All reasons why I have come back to Ukraine, after visiting last year. His friend says again that the people are not political.

When I leave the patio, where we are sitting, and go to the WC, I pay for their beers as well as my dinner. When they learn of this they are very appreciative.  I say it is the least I can do, thinking that they are fighting for our values with very little help from us.

Earlier when the friend had asked me how Americans feel about the war in Ukraine, I answered, honestly,  that I believe they don't care.  They are more concerned with their day to day lives.  For me Ukrainians are fighting for something we are supposed to believe in and deserve more support from us

As I walked back to the Inn, I felt strange.  Seeing all the soldiers walking around town and talking to these guys about what is going on had made the unfolding tragedy far more real and unsettling than reading about it from home far away.

Train Travel Travails

Budapest Thursday May 14, 5.30 AM

I'm up early.  Sitting in the breakfast room adjacent to my B&B room.  Dark, quiet, peaceful. With the rain gently falling on the skylight windows above.

I'm heading out by train to Ukraine in a couple of hours. But first I want to check the news while I have Internet access.  Last night I noticed that both the Ukrainian Hryvnia and the Russian Ruble have dropped more than 10% in value. A major move for any currency.  This is good for the cost of my journey. I'll get more for my dollars, but, it could mean things are heating up between Russia and Ukraine.

Perusing the NY Times, the Financial Times, the Guardian and the Kyiv Post, I see nothing unusual to account for the drop in the currencies. So that's good, but not the Amtrak train accident I read about.  Over here in Europe they have wonderful trains and it's a great, in fact, the best way to travel. Although it can be confusing if you don't speak the language.

I spent many hours at home planning the next leg of my trip.  From Budapest to the border town of Zahoney. Then another train over the border to Chop the border town in Ukraine.  And finally, another train to Mukachevo, a small Ukrainian city, where I hope to catch up on my sleep and improve my Ukrainian language skills from beginner to perhaps advanced beginner.

Now I must interrupt typing this narrative to go by bus to the train station.

Ok I'm back again at the train station where I get a cup of coffee in this beautiful space.  The brightest space in this somewhat drab and gritty but architecturally beautiful old Hungarian train station.  It's a McDonald's, no less, where I can access the Internet. I remember that I can't use my blogger program off-line so I download an offline word program with just enough time to do this before I head out to the train platform.

Having arrived over an hour ahead of time at the station, I find myself 20 minutes before departure bewildered, trying to match the train departure sign listings with my ticket, lightly cursing myself for not allowing more time for this critical task.

Finally, I think I can identify the right train and go to it and show my tickets to the uniformed guy who points me to the right car and I find my way to this great seat with a nice desk where I'm now typing.

All is fine til the conductor reads my tickets.  I note that he is a young guy with a concerned expression, who obviously takes his job seriously. He examines each passenger's ticket carefully, as he moves down the car towards me.  Looking at my tickets he says "reservy" (or something sounding like that). I show him my passport, maybe he is verifying my seniority for the discount.  He circles Zahony on one ticket (the border town I'm headed for) and he then asks me for something else. I don't understand (not knowing a word of Hungarian). We come to a station, he gets off and then  comes back and we continue our "conversation".  He looks perplexed.  I am perplexed. He looks away. Then back at me, nods and walks to the next passenger

I won't bore you with the details, but this episode follows hours I spent at home getting the tickets on the Internet, to the extent I could, and then continuing the process yesterday at the train station with the ticket clerk going back and forth from me to another woman in the back room "conferring" with each of us (speaking Hungarian) as she sells me a ticket for the train to cross the border which I couldn't order on line.  This occurs with minimal English, followed by my reviewing my tickets with the young woman manager at the B&B who checked things on the Internet with also some confusion. (Why do I now have 3 tickets for one train ride?).

Still, bottom line, I think I will make it to the Hungarian border town as I'm matching the next station on the train's display sign with a map I found on the Internet (which fortunately they do have on this train) so I think I'm on course and all is OK.

And the train with my seat, desk and view of the countryside couldn't be nicer. Well it could be a sunny day which it's not, but hey, after all the great weather I've had, I'm certainly not complaining.

There's no food on the train, but my B&B in Budapest packed me some sandwiches to take as I was leaving before I would be able to partake in their wonderful breakfast. So I'm in good shape foodwise.

Now I think I've got it figured out.  The train ticket I've got to take me over the border does leave too late to arrive in time to catch the next train.  It appears OK until you allow for the 1 hour time difference between the two countries which the station clerk failed to do.  No problem though, as I found out with the B&B manager it is only 9 minutes by auto between the 2 border towns so I think I can get a taxi to get me there in plenty of time if the border guards and lines don't delay me too much.

I wasn't able to find out how to get from the Mukachevo train station to the my hotel there but I think the distance is not great and I'll figure that out when I arrive, God willing, at the train station.

Ok now we stop at a major city of Debrecen and then a new conductor gets on the train and the previous conductor and this one come to me and I show them my tickets again and they confer and there is indeed a problem.

They then get this passenger who speaks English and after much discussion it turns out that they are questioning my discount price on the ticket.  I show them my passport and it turns out that the discount only applies for EU members not Americans.  Then it turns out that this train doesn't go to Zahony, it stops at the next station and I have to change to get the next train to Zahony.

The English speaking Hungarian woman says she can help me at the next station to upgrade my ticket to the full price.  I say OK the 2 conductors look relieved. Hopefully, I'll yet make it to the border town of Zahoney. Train tickets are so inexpensive here, that the additional cost is of no concern to me.   Fortunately, I did not cash out all my Hungarian Forints so I think I'll have enough to pay whatever I have to.


After we get off the train at Zahony the young woman introduces me to her father-law who is there to meet her, We all then proceed to the ticket counter with the 2 conductors where I buy the "upgrade" (no discount for elderly Americans). Everyone is happy and I ask to take a picture of of the participants in this successful solution to a daunting problem. The conductor buttons his jacket in preparation for the picture which I take, then the woman tells me where to get the next train which is leaving in just 10 minutes.

The next train is far less elegant with no reserve seats.  I enter a compartment with 3 others in it, none of whom speaks English or Ukrainian.  They seem to be amused by this foreigner (me).  My next challenge is to get off at the right station and not miss it.  One by one they get off at their destinations. I am able with sign language to get the last remaining passenger in my compartment to indicate 5 stations to Zahony as she leaves the train.

At the station, the taxi drivers are quite aggressive soliciting at the arriving platform, but I negotiate a price half of what the driver is asking, or so I think. The driver looks a bit sinister to me but gives off good vibes and I'm impressed by his initiative (I know, I know, you're saying that is to be suspected, but still ....).

It takes about 45 minutes for the 10 minute drive, the difference being waiting in line to get through customs both leaving Hungary and entering Ukraine. Documents are checked. Trunks are opened and peered  into. The driver has passports for both countries which is probably a sign of his professionalism. I ask him if I can look at his passport. He says yes and I see and say his first name which he corrects and I introduce myself and he says my name right the first time and we shake hands as we become new best friends, though this is, hopefully, not a long term relationship.

Given the long lines and delay I become concerned that I will miss my train, but then things proceed nicely, as the taxi drivers assist each other by letting their buddies, as traffic shifts, move ahead into the fastest moving lanes.

As the taxi arrives at the Ukrainian border town of Chop. I see it has two station buildings: one quite nice, which isn't being used and one quite cavernous, which is almost empty of passengers.

I find out from the ticket office that my next and final train will be arriving in 10 minutes at platform 4. A few minutes later the longest passenger train I have ever seen pulls in at platform 3.

Taking no chances, I walk over and show my ticket to the conductor who tells me to get on and keeps my ticket/boarding pass. I find the compartment for my seat, number 27, my son's favorite number, a good omen indeed which, however, doesn't occur to me until later,  just now as I'm typing this narrative.

My compartment is designed for 4 passengers with bedding (blankets, sheets, towels)  has 2 fold down bunks on each side is empty and I think I will travel alone until a guy enters. In the hour it takes to travel to Mukachevo. we get to know each other.

He's a railroad inspector traveling to Lviv (my next destination in 5 days) where he lives.  We show each other family pictures from our smartphones. and discuss the situation in Ukraine. He offers me a beer. I offer him  the last of my 4 small sandwiches supplied by my Budapest B&B which he declines, having just previously eaten.

We discuss the political situation and I ask him about the Russian seizure of Crimea.  He tells me that for Ukraine, Crimea was like a burden (financially) which you carry on your back and wouldn't drop it, but if someone comes along and takes it, well it does relieve a burden. His English is not totally fluent but sufficient for us to have a good conversation.  He tells me that Ukrainians (western) are a different people with different customs from Russians.  (Putin seems to imply they are not ).

Talking with him confirmed my view that the majority of Ukrainians very much want to be part of Europe, not Russia, a view different from those who prefer to think the uprising was just a US coup.

When I get off the train in Mukachevo, no cab drivers approach. I find they are on the other side of the station and when I approach one, he tells me (by drawing the number on his car) that it will cost 35 Hryvnias to take me to the Inn where I will be staying.  I count out the Hryvnias I have (left over from my last trip - the 2 ATM machines not working in the station) and it's only around 20, not enough for him. I suggest he take me to an ATM machine and then the Inn which he says he'll do for 40 Hryvnias.

When we get to the Inn I give him a 50 Hryvnia bill (about $2.20) and he starts to give me change. When I wave him off, he is very appreciative and with a warm smile he wishes me luck.

In the Inn, the manager speaks no English at all and I'm confused that the room I'm staying in, doesn't seem to have a door that locks.  It turns out that the sitting room next to my room, is part of my suite and it does have a locks.  I now have, for 4 days, a suite of rooms filled with interesting furniture, paintings and objects in a charming small city for $14 per night.

Life is good.

Thanks especially for reading this very long post!