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.