"But I'm not a Baptist!"

Roman is one of the Ukrainians who has attended the Bible studies in the prison for almost a year. He called me while we were in Ukraine to let me know that the court had found him not guilty of murder---"insufficient evidence from the prosecution" was the reason cited by the judge---so he is free. If he did kill the other man, he didn't remember it, as he had been drinking, and the other man had beaten Roman on the head very severely with a club. When Roman came to, he was covered in blood and the other man was dead. One of the Ukrainian brothers in the church said Sunday that Roman is still on the island working, and he has stopped drinking. The talk around the Ukrainian immigrant community is that "Roman became a Baptist." We pray he at least continues to read the Bible we gave him and seek God.

The other Ukrainian is Oleg. He's a very quiet fellow, even taking into consideration the linguistic difficulties. Last week one of the guards saw me talking with Oleg and asked if I had been able to enter into any kind of dialog with him. Oleg asked me last week to get him the address of the Portuguese Red Cross, hinting that he was going to write them and ask for help. At the end of the lesson today, Oleg stayed behind, and I gave him the address he wanted. I used the opportunity to see if he would open up and talk. He explained that he was sentenced to 8 1/2 years for murder (manslaughter, perhaps). I think he was in a fight and didn't mean to kill the other man, so he got off with a minimum sentence. That was 4 years ago so he still has over half his sentence to serve. I asked him what sort of help, specifically, he was looking for. He explained that the only clothes he has are the ones he was wearing today. No pijamas, no extra underwear, no other shoes or houseshoes. His family in Ukraine can't send him money.

I told Oleg that our church would be glad to help him with those kinds of things. That's when he looked at me, somewhat surprised, and said, "But I'm not a Baptist, I'm Orthodox!"

"Yes," I replied, "but more importantly, you are a person!"

This is the love that God sheds abroad in our hearts, the love the world does not understand, the love that is the ultimate sign of being born again and being a disciple of Jesus. We often come across people who ask us if it's OK to attend our services, "since they're not Baptist". Our doors are open to everyone, of course, including atheists. A few months back, one of our members brought a neighbor lady to the service. When I was introduced to her at the end of the service, she told me straight out she didn't like the service at all. (Our member had already clued me in that her neighbor is an atheist by conviction.) I don't remember what I preached, but she didn't like it. She brought up the issue of the innocent victims of the tsunami a few months before, among other things. She repeatedly made the point she doesn't believe God exists. I told her that was OK, and that we loved her anyway, and would be glad to see her any time.

Last week, Isabel told us that the neighbor has since moved to a different house and has been travelling, but the neighbor told Isabel that she felt something different in our church and would be coming again as soon as could. And she's not even Baptist.

Trip to Ukraine Last Month

As I mentioned in my last post on May 8, we traveled for two weeks in Ukraine. I made notes each day on my PDA and based on those notes I have prepared a daily account of our trip. I plan to incorporate pictures also to accompany the text.

As soon as we got home, we had one week to prepare for Joy and Mark's visit. They were here a week, and then I had a few days to complete a large translation, so that took up all my time. Only now have I been able to spend some time organizing my notes and pictures.

The currency is the hrynia or hryven in the plural. The abbreviation is UAH and 1 UAH = US$0.20 or 16 euro cents. We traveled with Petro and Lidiya, who will be staying for two months before returning to Madeira. He came to Madeira over 3 years ago; she has been here two years. This is their first trip back to Ukraine after coming here.

Because the posts show up on the blog in reverse chronological order, I will try to post each day's journal with an earlier time than the preceding day's entry, so that the accounts can be read chronologically. That's the plan.

Day 1 - May 13 – Friday: The flight

We left Madeira at 7:20 p.m. as scheduled, and the Ukrainian Air flight also left from Lisbon on schedule, at about 10:15 p.m.
Once on the plane we know we have left familiar Portuguese culture...we are among the very few on board who are not native Ukrainian speakers. "Fortunately" the pilot and cabin staff give the announcements in English as well as Ukrainian. Fortunately I understand a little Ukrainian. Unfortunately they speak too fast and muffled for me to understand. Fortunately I understand English well. Unfortunately he speaks too fast and muffled for me to understand. We're not always sure when he's switched from one to the other.

Day 2—May 14—Saturday: Arrival, Kyiv, and a Party

Day was just breaking as we landed at Kyiv's Boryspil Airport just before 5 a.m. This will take getting used to because the sun doesn't come up in Madeira until almost 8. We lost 2 hours on the clock and a whole night's sleep, so when we got to Dima & Natasha's house went to bed as soon as we had a chance and slept from 7:30 to about 9:30.

Contrary to the weather of recent weeks --- and the forecast on the Internet --- the weather turned off perfect. Petro took us into the center of town, first to the central avenue and square, where I saw the VE day parade two years ago (right, the parade in 2003; left, Petro in front of the Portuguese booth) This time the whole avenue was closed off for Kyiv’s Europe Day. The avenue was filled with booths representing each of the countries in Europe, and there were stages for bands and performances. European Day in Kyiv. Lots of noise, lots of people. Ukraine’s neighbor, Poland, just entered the EU, and from what I’ve read, Ukraine would love nothing better than to be included, too.

Odd sight: a human telephone booth. Wish I had taken a picture of the fellow with a sign around his neck. What were they called---sandwich boards? I don’t remember when I last saw one, but we saw several in Kyiv. They advertised different things, but we were already too far past this particular man before I figured out what was going on. He was renting his cell phone, and for x amount of money you could make a phone call for x number of minutes on the cell phone at the end of a tether that was perhaps 6 ft (2m) long. Now that’s entrepreneurship. By the way, Pedro, who left for Portugal 3 years ago, said one of the big changes he noticed was the number of cell phones. Three years ago very few had one, now you see them everywhere.

What will they think of next? McDonald's is internationally known for clean restrooms, a welcome sight when travelling. Went into the McDonald's in downtown Kyiv, and behold! A 4-digit code is needed to get in. I finally translated the information sign by the bathroom door, enough to learn that the code is printed on the cash register receipt. (That was after I came back out---a kind soul let me in---I was not in the proper frame of mind to stand there and decipher a paragraph of Ukrainian when I first got there.) “No tickee, no washee,” as the Chinese laundry man was supposed to have said. Maybe this system is more common than I think, but it was the first time we'd ever seen it.



We visited two of the big Ukrainian Orthodox churches: Mikhaelevsky and Sofia.

Sofia costs 1UAH (US $0.20) to get into the grounds and for another bit you can go in the 1000-yr old church. At Mikhaelevsky (shown in photos here), the plaza in front and the grounds inside were invaded by wedding parties. We actually lost count of how many there were---30 would be a conservative guess. Every conceivable corner was being used as a setting for the wedding photos.
A blind man in traditional Cossack dress earns his living playing the traditional Ukrainian musical instrument in the Mikhaelevsky plaza. At the moment, I can't remember the name of the instrument, but it's obviously not a guitar!

When we got back to the house we took a short nap before the party began. Friends of Petro and Lidiya came to see them, the same ones who had come to meet us at the airport. Several of them are members of the Kiev Central Baptist Church choir, and it was decided that we would go with them tomorrow morning to the small country church where they are to sing for the Easter program. Orthodox Easter was just last Sunday.

Day 3—May 15—Sunday: Church and surprises - Again!

Morning:
Brovari is the name of the small town about 45 min. east of Kyiv where we went in the morning. Feodor, who was part of the group at the airport and later at the house, drove us out there. I said 45 minutes---as Feodor flies. We were accompanying the choir and they love to sing. "When we all get to heaven" wasn't one of those songs, but the way our brother drove, we weren't too sure he wasn't going to make those words come true and drive us right up to the front entrance of the pearly gates. Red lights, one-way streets, speed limits and no-passing zones were mere features of the landscape that had nothing to do with his getting us from one place to another.

Curiously, that evening I got in on a story told by the pastor of the Central Baptist Church in Kyiv. He was talking to the leader of an American team of two doctors and some nurses who were on a two-week mission trip. I don’t know what occasioned the telling of the joke, but basically it was about a woman driving a car with all sorts of Bible verses and evangelical stickers on it. She was holding up traffic, venting her displeasure at the way another driver had cut in front of her, and she was making quite a scene when a policeman appeared. He asked to see her documents and told her she would have to come to the station with him, where she had to wait for an hour. Finally, the police officer returned and apologized for keeping her so long. "It took us a while to check the records. I thought you had stolen the car," he explained.

At Brovari we met a missionary from SEND. Small world.... Abbie’s brother-in-law, Carlton, has a cousin who is affiliated with that mission and who goes to Ukraine on short-term missions. This missionary knows Carlton’s cousin, of course.

Because I was in Ukraine two years ago, I knew more or less what to expect. The order of service is always the same: services begin at 10:00 and last until 12:00---singing, prayers, and sermons in 3 rounds. The main pastor takes the pulpit at 11:30, and until then the time is filled with songs by the choir or special numbers and congregational songs, with a couple of messages in between. This morning, however, there was no congregational singing; maybe that's because the choir from the Central Church was there for the special Easter service, and the program was different.

"Program" is the key word here. All the parts are timed to the minute. A surprise speaker (as I was) can really put a kink in the scheme of things. The need for a translator makes it even more complicated, since it takes over twice as long to get any thought communicated. In the pre-service meeting with the pastor and deacon, the pastor reminded me that "time is money" (his exact words in Russian) and my subsequent promise to speak only 5 minutes was music to his ears. As it turned out I was 10 minutes or so in the pulpit, but there was an interpreter after all, so I kept my word. I only spoke 5 minutes.

Michael, the missionary with SEND, was there with a seminary student, who gave the first message. Michael had the second message, and then he interpreted for me. (He's of Russian lineage and was raised in a Russian-Ukrainian church in Pennsylvania.) He confided to me that it was difficult for him to sit through this traditional type of service. This time he didn’t have to sit quite as much: the pastor had him take the final preaching slot normally reserved for the pastor, or the head pastor in churches with more than one. He preached twice and interpreted another message in the same service.

Following the service an older man came up to Michael and spoke with him for 10 minutes, or so. It turned out that the older man took exception to the fact that the missionary used notes to preach from (wasn’t allowing the Holy Spirit to speak through him, I suppose). I think he let the missionary know that it would be better if he didn't come back to that church. "First time that's ever happened," Michael said. We agreed that anyone in the ministry had to learn to deal with a lot of strange situations.

We ate at the church with the church choir. Ladies from the host church prepared borshch and a pasta dish, and for dessert, cake and ice cream.

In the afternoon we went shopping along Andreyevsky St. in Kyiv, climbing the long hill where all the tourist items and art works are sold. We bought a couple of sets of matrioshka dolls for Ana, one of the ladies in my consular office, and some of the cedar coasters that are so typical.

As you can see from this picture, the options are not limited to the traditional mother figure. Political figures (Gorbachev, Bush, Reagan) and even American football players are found along with cats and religious motifs.(Here is a link to some examples of higher priced dolls.)


Natasha, Petro and Lidiya’s daughter, was with us and we found a nice restaurant to have a cappuccino. Da Vinci Fish Club is definitely as nice as any restaurant we’ve eaten in. They offered us a discount card, which we decided to accept...don't know that we'll get a chance to go back there, though. The problem is that we're always being escorted, and we're not free to choose our pace or itinerary. We would be interested in staying in town for lunch, grabbing a bite of this or that when we begin to feel faint, but our hosts cannot conceive of eating in a restaurant. They would prefer to spend 45 min. on the bus each way and go home for an hour to have lunch. Habits born out of necessity when you only make $250 a month like Dima, Natasha’s husband, who works as a salesman at a clothing store in a new mall.

We think they are also concerned that we might get lost if we go out alone, and we find it difficult to get out and explore on our own.

Evening. Kyiv Central Baptist Church
Again I was permitted to speak, and one of the associate pastors (son of the head pastor) interpreted for me. Following the service I spoke with the main pastor, who was surprised that I knew any Ukrainian. He said that knowing Ukrainian meant that I would always have a place to sleep and would never go hungry in Kyiv. Well, we haven’t gone hungry, yet, and we’ve always had a place to sleep.


Small world again. We met an American missionary at the church who, when he found out we work in Portugal, said he knew a Ukrainian who went to Portugal (over 60,000 are thought to have emigrated to Portugal). It didn’t take us long to realize he was talking about Nikolay, the son of Abbie’s harp teacher. Nikolay came to our church a few times right after he arrived in Madeira.

We talked with Andriy by telephone and found out that his wife, Larisa, would be attending a medical conference in Kyiv the last half of the week, so we decided to reverse the order of our visits. We will go to L’viv first and spend the weekend there, then go to Netyshin the following week.

Day 4—May 16—Monday: Consulate, Train tickets, Turkish coffee

Much of the morning was spent trying to find the American Consulate. I thought we should register with the consulate to let them know where we are. After a lot of walking and backtracking, which included finding the embassy rather than the consulate, we arrived at the gate of the consulate. A rather tightly packed crowd of 100 or so Ukrainians milled about in the area outside the gate, waiting their turn to be called inside. By showing our passports, we were allowed to pass through the crowd and into the grounds of the consulate. We got the registration papers, but the consular assistant told me it would be better to register online. That way, our information would be available worldwide on the State Department network, rather than just locally at the Kyiv consulate. That sounded OK to me, since the forms were more complicated than I wanted to deal with, and we had lost so much time already getting to the consulate. I was ready to move on to the other things I wanted to do, and I would just register online later.

As I was to discover, Internet connections were not easy to find, and the few times I did get online, the connections were exasperatingly slow. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of our time in Kyiv trapped at a computer trying to fill out forms online. We ended up not registering at all. Duuuh…I work as a consular agent for the U.S., and I didn’t think of registering online before we left! The only semblance of justification I can offer is that the online registration of U.S. citizens traveling overseas is a relatively recent development, and we don’t travel overseas. We live overseas.

We went to the train station to buy our tickets to L’viv for Wednesday night. (Left: Abbie and Petro crossing one of Kiev's tree-lined streets on the way to the train station.) While there, I saw an Internet café and checked my e-mail (which is when I knew I would not be registering online). It took 20 minutes just to read a couple of short e-mails. Abbie and I were hungry, so we bought four small sandwiches and a bottle of water for €0.55 (about $0.70). Some things are really cheap here. Also got coffee here, but we didn’t realize it was Turkish coffee until we went to stir it. Then we had to wait for the grounds to settle before drinking the contents of the upper half of the cup. Someone told me the other day about an ethnic group that had the habit of making a mud tea out of the soil where they take up new residence, and making their children drink it. This is to get their children accustomed to the new location and its bacteria, I suppose. Perhaps mud pies children make (and eat) are not so bad, after all. The coffee reminded me of the story of the mud tea.

Cultural note:I mentioned the restroom facilities at McDonald's as being an important reference point. You have to pay for using nearly all public restrooms in Ukraine (usual price= 0,50 UAH, or about 10 US cents), and I've included a picture here to illustrate another cultural difference. It was more usual to find the floor built up level with the stool.

In the evening, Dima and Natasha took us to the Karavan Mall, where he works in a clothing store. (Left: Abbie, Natasha and Dima checking prices in the supermarket.) This mall and others like it are part of the new Ukraine that I didn’t see two years ago. We’re not sure how these stores are going to make it, given the low salaries. Dima’s salary of $250 a month is about average for workers in Kiev, we were told. The minimum wage is around $50 a month. The supermarket had just about everything, including live fish in tanks for about €2 a kilo ($1.10 a pound)(right). The store’s “fisherman” was sitting behind the tanks reading a magazine, waiting on the next customer to place an order.

Day 5 -- May 17 -- Tuesday: Museums and a stroll at evening

Abbie woke up with strange sensation: her mind was so filled with new experiences that she felt like was floating in the air, skimming across the ground. I experienced that same feeling two years ago. It’s like the brain is overloaded with so much new information…


Dima took us to the War Memorial and Lavra, the main monastery at the edge of the Dnipr River.We had a guided tour, but it was in Russian, since Dima insisted on paying. I think it came to $2.50 for the three of us, but it would have cost $15 for a tour in English. That was a strong argument for choosing the Russian-language tour. The churches and monasteries have all been refurbished, a sharp contrast to the majority of buildings in the country.










Left: At the War Memorial, with the Dnipr and the City of Kyiv in the background. Right: A horse chestnut tree in full bloom forms the backdrop in this picture of Abbie and Dima. The streets of Kyiv are lined with these trees, which are the symbol of the city.


Gilded domes of the Lavra sprout above the trees and dominate the view of the city. These and other churches are the most well-kept buildings of the city. Images of the saints decorate the outside of the main church.



We also visited the gold museum. I remember being impressed by it two years ago, and I wanted Abbie to see it. These artifacts come from archeological sites in Ukraine, and the most delicate and well-made pieces date from the 4th & 5th centuries BC. I didn’t see anything there that proved man has been evolving. What I did learn this time was that the Scythians (Paul mentions them in the book of Colossians, remember?) were some of the early inhabitants of what is Ukraine today. Does that mean that an up-dated translation should say “there is neither…Barbarian, Ukrainian, bond nor free” in Col. 3:11?






I include this picture
just because I like it.
Cats in Ukraine
sit in window sills
like they do
anywhere else
in the world.
This was at the Lavra.


The other museum we visited held an exposition of miniatures produced as far back as the 1980s, perhaps even further back by a Russian(?)/Ukrainian(?) scientist. Can’t remember his name, and I don’t remember the dates exactly, either, but I know they go back a couple of decades or so. These pieces are so small that you have to look at them through a microscope lens. Examples: gold horseshoes on the hind feet of a flea; a poppy seed split in half, with a portrait of a poet engraved on one half and a poem of his on the other half; a 24-page book, about 6mm (1/4”) square, with readable text. Did I mention these were miniatures, really, really miniature miniatures? Among the other objects on display was a strand of human hair that had been hollowed out, polished inside and out until it was transparent, then a red rose with a stem and leaf was inserted inside the hollowed-out hair. If you’re ever in Kyiv, you ought to see this display.






It was a long day, and we didn’t eat lunch until 4 in the afternoon. We rested instead of going back to church. There was a prayer meeting, I think. About sundown, we went for our first walk on our own. We didn’t go far afield, but we did wander about the neighborhood, walking through the maze of Soviet-style housing (shown here) that prevails everywhere. We enjoyed the late evening air and sat on a bench until we discovered mosquitoes were trying to enjoy us, which took away our enjoyment, so we went back in the apartment.







Left: Although there are supermarkets, most people buy the essentials from "convenience stores" like these. "Window shopping" takes on a new meaning here, because everything has to come through the window: bread, water, canned, bottled and packaged foods of all sorts. Do you recognize the Lays potato chips in the left picture? The sign reads "Bread - Assorted Confectionary - Cakes"

You should always read the instructions (if you can)
As I was getting ready to go take a shower, I asked Abbie what soap she was using. There was shampoo, conditioner and toothpaste in the bag she brought with us, but I hadn’t seen any soap. She said she was using the bath gel in the yellow tube. Well, I had seen that, too. It was given to us by a sister from Berlin who has come to Madeira many times over the years; she told Abbie it was for washing. Of course, everything on the tube is written in German, but by the pictures of planes and boats and trains you can tell it’s made for travelers. So Abbie packed this bath gel. The reason I hadn’t used it was because I had read enough of the German to figure out it was for washing out your underwear. “Well, that explains why it didn’t seem to lather up very well,” Abbie concluded. Of course, if she had known what it was, she could have left her clothes on when she took a shower, I guess.

Day 6--May 18--Wednesday: Lunch for two, Lilacs by the thousands, Off on a train ride

Monument to Hetman Khmelnytsky, 17th century Ukrainian hero

On this, our last day in Kyiv, we were able to get off to town on our own. This was facilitated by the fact that we had made a tentative appointment to have coffee with the Commercial Attaché from the American Embassy. We had met him during his previous posting at Lisbon, and we had spoken with him by phone to see if we could work it out and get together over coffee to exchange impressions of Ukraine. We took the bus to the area where he works and called him to see if he was free. As it turned out, he wouldn’t be free until the afternoon, and by then, we had other engagements. The meeting didn’t happen, but we made the most of our day on the town.

We went into one of the big market areas, a sort of open-air bazaar. You can buy anything from toiletries to toilet fixtures in the small stalls that form a labyrinth of narrow passageways. We were looking for only two things: a certain type of hairbrush to replace the one Abbie had left in Madeira, and some shoe polish. We were successful on both counts, and it cost us almost nothing. Some things are really cheap here. (Upper left) Old woman tries to sell her onions beside a booth with housewares. (Upper right) Electrical supplies and small appliances. (Lower right) Rows upon rows, literally, of eggs. Guess what we were served a lot of!

Some things are not cheap, though. We decided to go back to the Da Vinci Fish Club, since we had the discount card. The décor is as nice as any restaurant here in Madeira, and the prices are not far behind the expensive restaurants here. On the Ukrainian wage scale, it was exorbitant. The cost for two persons would be more than an average person’s weekly salary. We really enjoyed the grilled vegetables, as we found that there was not a lot of variety of vegetables in the market: radishes, cucumbers, tomatoes, green onions, and little else.

The plan was for us to go to the Botanical Garden in the afternoon to see the lilacs in bloom. We were to call Petro to arrange a meeting, so he could go with us. The bus line from his house ends at the main square of Kyiv, where the Eurovision Song Contest was to start that same evening and last for two or three days, so we waited there for him. In the end, it was Lidiya who showed up. (Left, below) Something had come up and Petro could not come.

The Maidan Square was already filling up with people for the Eurovision Song Contest as we walked through the center of the city to catch a bus to the gardens. The center of town was all closed to traffic, again. I always think of this avenue as being closed to traffic. It was closed two years ago for the VE Day parade; it was closed a few days ago for the European Day; now it was closed for the Song Contest. I think it may be closed to traffic on weekends anyway. I know some of the other streets of downtown Kyiv are closed to vehicles every weekend, so people can just get out and stroll through town. (Upper right) The blue shirt identifies a member of the Hospitality Program for the Eurovision Song Contest. (Left) Souvenirs, anyone?

It was a long way to the bus stop, and the weather was hot, too hot for the coats we were carrying. When we got to the Botanical Gardens, we discovered that a lot of other people had come to see the lilacs, too.

Kids played in the water around the fountain at the entrance (left), although the water didn’t look too clean. The horse chestnut is the symbol of Kiev, and the streets of the city are lined with them. They, too, are in full bloom at this time of year, but the lilac could just as well have been chosen as the symbol of the city, judging by the abundance of lilacs.

They bloom in all shades ranging from white to deep purple.(Above) What we find strange is that Madeira, known for its many varieties of flowers, both native and introduced from abroad, has no lilacs. (Left) Abbie and Lidiya stand in the shade of another flowering bush, which we couldn't identify.

To get back to the house, we were able to catch a bus that would allow us to make connections without having to walk. In the confusion of collecting for the tickets, the lady conductor gave my change to someone else. I gave her 5-UAH bill and should have gotten back 4. Instead I got 1 UAH, that is, change for a 2-UAH bill. I mentioned to her that I had given her 5, and looked at a young couple she had just given 4 UAH in change to. I told her to not worry about it, but I was sure I had given her 5. She went on to the back of the bus to collect, and a lady seated near where I was standing asked me if I had given 5 UAH. When the conductor came back to the front of the bus, the passenger made a point of bringing up the matter to the conductor. At this, the conductor turned to the young couple and demanded in a loud voice that they return the 4 UAH change and wouldn't stop until they did. I gave her back the 1 UAH I had gotten, and she gave each of us our rightful change. She not only apologized to me then, but later on she came back by and apologized again. I was willing to let it go; the 3 UAH at stake were insignificant in financial terms (1 UAH = $0.20), but it was a matter of professional pride and justice that caused her to go to such lengths.

We found the people were friendly and open to foreigners, although English-speakers are not very common. In the coffee-shops and restaurants, the attendants were young people and spoke sufficient English. The infrastructures still are lacking for non-speakers of Russian or Ukrainian, however. There is an almost total absence of notices and sign posts in English. On the highway, the names of towns are typically spelled in Western characters, but that’s about it.

We had time to get a bath and eat a bite before Petro took us to the train station. It was 10:20 p.m. when the train pulled out. Arrival time in L’viv: 6:50 a.m.

We had bought tickets for a sleeper car, which cost about $10 each for the one-way fare. On the train we had to pay an extra $1.40 each for the use of sheets, blankets and pillow cases. We shared our compartment with two men from L’viv who, fortunately, had only a shot or two of vodka left in the bottle they brought on board with them. They weren't drunk and there wasn't enough liquor in the bottle to get them that way. The lights were out and we were all trying to sleep by shortly after 11:00. But the air conditioner wasn’t working, and in that small compartment, with the door closed and no open window, it was too hot and stuffy for comfort.

Day 7--May 19--Thursday: Singing in the Rain (Puddle-jumping in L’viv, Concert included)

Neither one of us slept well on the train, and each of us would say we didn't sleep at all. But both of us claimed to have heard the other one snoring, and we each got up at one time or another without the other knowing it, so we must have dozed off, at least.

We got up about an hour before arrival time, and although it was time for the sun to come up, we couldn't have pointed out which direction to look for it. Sometime during the night we had left the land of cloudless skies and entered into a new day that looked cold and dreary.

We were met at the station by Dima and Yuriy. Dima is the son of Volodya, the Ukrainian brother I traveled with two years ago. He and his friend Yuriy lived and worked in Madeira for four years until March or April. They decided it was time to go back home and do something besides work two jobs. They worked in the kitchen at the Casino, and they each had another day job. After a couple of months in Ukraine, they were still unemployed, but they weren’t worried about it. Dima is hoping to start some kind of business, probably a small shop selling sports clothes. We were informed by different merchants in the bazaars that they got their merchandise from Poland. Abbie bought some lotions made from Dead Sea minerals at about 1/6 the price she would have to pay here. The products were packaged in and for Poland. Not surprising, since this western area of Ukraine was part of Poland in the past, and the Polish influence is seen in the language and culture.

Dima and Yuriy had gotten a friend who had a car to come get us. It took us about 20 min. to get to the house. Coming back through the city quickly revealed the difference between L’viv and Kiev. L’viv is a very old city and it has preserved its streets much as they were of old. They are still narrow and paved with cobblestones, and traffic jams are not uncommon. Kiev, however, is much, much larger, yet we never saw one traffic jam, because the streets and avenues there are wide and the ratio of cars per thousand inhabitants must be low. There was never any sign of problems with the traffic. Can't say the same for Lisbon, or Funchal either, for that matter, and I think Kiev would be like Lisbon, if the cars/inhabitant ratio were similar to that in Portugal.

Little seemed changed at or in Volodya’s house (left)since I was here two years ago. What had changed was the completed overpass across the railroad tracks. It had been started in the early 90's, but the collapse of the USSR left the project hanging, literally, in mid-air. The approach to the house completely changed in 2 years.
(Right)Two years ago cars had to wait at the crossing for the trains to go by. Work on the overpass was put on hold for about a decade.


We were hungry and were glad to accept the offer of something to eat and a chance to rest before facing the day. We slept for a couple of hours... after-effects of the night on the train.
(Right)Fresh chicken soup! Tonya, Volodya's wife, kept the chicks in a pan overnight so they would stay warm. By the end of the day, we were looking for any way to stay warm that we could find.

Dima said he wasn't free to go into town with us, but Yuriy would go. I had a couple of places in mind from my previous visit that I wanted to show Abbie, and I still had the city map I used then. I had made notes on the map so I didn't have to rely solely on memory.

I remembered where the bookstores were, and I bought the Rus-Ukr / Ukr-Rus dictionaries I had made up my mind to buy a long time ago. The price was right: $26 for the two hard-bound volumes of over 1000 pages each. The other shop I had in mind was even less expensive. For a couple of dollars I came away with an assortment of cookies with chocolate, peanuts and coconut in various sizes, shapes and combinations. They were just as good as I remember them being two years ago. They were so good then that I didn't bother to mark the location on my map. I knew I wouldn't forget how to get there.

We also spent some time looking for an Internet cafe so I could check e-mail. A couple of places said they were closed (no explanations given) and we were about to give up, when we did find one. I was glad to be able to check the mail, but the connection was so dreadfully slow that I only opened 2 e-mails and had no desire at all to attempt browsing the web.

Otherwise, how was the visit to town? Wet! Not a heavy rain, but a steady drizzle that little by little soaked through everything. Our shoes and socks were wet through and through; it wasn't freezing cold, but we were uncomfortable all the time we were outside.

The surprise of the day (and there always seems to be one) was a recital at the school of music where Yuriy's parents teach. His sister, Alexandra (16), and another student sang excerpts from operas and classical songs. Yuriy's father is the director of the school, and he made a point of announcing the presence of honored guests, the American consul from Madeira Island and wife. For his part, Yuriy was glad when it was over. He has attended several of his sister's performances, but he says he shares none of the musical tastes and talents of his parents and sister.

That night, back at the house, Yulia, Volodya’s 13-yr. old daughter, turned on the water heater for us so we could get a bath. Something went wrong…we turned the water off, because we had enough water in the tub, but the water heater is old and not automatic so the gas flame didn’t go off. The bathroom is right in the middle of the house, and there are no windows. Before we figured out how to turn off the flame, we almost burned the house down, probably. What we did burn out was the heater, I guess. We never got another hot bath while we were there.

(Left, from top) Yuriy's sister in recital, with Ukraine's national emblem, the blue-and-yellow trident, in the background.
Furnace in the corner of Yuriy's father's office. It's May, and I wish it was on; what must it be like in February?!
Yuriy fixing tea for us. An alternate way to get warm. Ukrainians drink a lot more tea than coffee. They must drink as much tea as the English.
My feet were cold, but they only look frost-bitten. Dye from my shoes and socks stained my feet, and we were barely able to get a bath that night.

Day 8--May 20--Friday: Wet in the Wild: the Carpathian Mountains

After the long day yesterday, I would have thought we would sleep well last night. Neither of us did. I think one problem I had was that my mind kept right on working, especially in assimilating new words and constructions in Ukrainian, making associations with Russian equivalents. As Dima told us, in L’viv, 100% of the people understand Russian; 80% of them don't like it. In Kyiv it was common to hear conversations in a mixture of the two languages; many people there, and especially the educated professional classes over 30, understand Ukrainian and can speak it to some degree, but they work and think in Russian. L’viv, on the other hand, is the seat of Ukrainian nationalism. The more Ukrainian one uses, the better off he is.

When we did get up, we found our shoes were still wet. We should have set them by the furnace in the bathroom; perhaps they would have dried out some. Not that it would have made a great difference in the course of the day. The weather was still wet and we were going to be out in it. (Left)Sidewalk convenience store: fresh milk sold in every conceivable type of container, from Coke bottles to water bottles.

Breakfast was brought to our room (we’re sleeping on the couch in the living room) and it included sandwiches with homemade liver paste. I saw it in the loaf pan when I took the tray back to the kitchen. Tonya, Volodya’s wife, noticed we hadn't eaten the sandwiches, so I explained that I eat liver at other times, but it's not what we want the first thing in the morning. There were also the usual sandwiches, "butter-brot" in Ukrainian, (bread, butter, with a small slice or two of cheese and a couple of pieces of pork salami), along with two boiled eggs for each. Everything Abbie shouldn't eat!

The day we left Madeira the doctor looked at the last results from Abbie's blood tests and told her that her cholesterol levels were high. He gave her a sheet of paper with lists of foods to avoid and those that are allowable in limited amounts. Probably 80-90% of what we've been offered here is on the 'no-no' list. We keep thinking that when we get to Andriy's house Monday the menus will be healthier. As doctors, he and his wife are both aware of the need for proper nutrition.

The program for today was a trip to the mountains. When I was here two years ago, Volodya mentioned that the Carpathian Mountains were an hour or so away by car, and I decided that if at all possible, I would like to see them. In my mind I pictured them to be something like the Rocky Mountains, with towering, majestic peaks. The weather hadn't improved, but we decided to go and see what we could in spite of the rain and clouds.

Andriy (not the Andriy we’re to visit next week), Dima's friend who had picked us up at the airport, was going to take us to the mountains, and he had to stop for fuel at the gasoline station on the way out of town. To his surprise, he was informed that a 10-liter (2.5 gal) limit per customer has gone into effect, apparently since the presidential elections, when the Russian-backed candidate lost to the pro-Western Yushchenko. The resulting strain in relations with Russia is reflected in the petroleum imports, leading to rationing. This crisis was also cited as the reason why service stations in Kiev often posted a flat rate price of 6 UAH ($1.20)/liter for various grades of fuel, when the actual prices range from a little under 3 UAH to a little over that. I never understood the exact strategy behind that, but I got the idea it was mainly a political statement.

Andriy drove us through areas of flat farm lands dotted with small villages. Everything was green, of course. In the distance we could just make out a large field carpeted with yellow blossoms: turnips. Fields of potatoes and onions were being worked by hand; cattle grazed in pastures everywhere. More than once we were forced to share the road with cows being taken from one pasture to another. As we neared the mountains themselves, the landscape turned into rolling hills. Andriy took us to Morshin, a small village known for its mineral water, and it was set up for tourism because of the springs there. There were several hotels, one of them six or seven stories high. (Below, left) Lavanda Hotel, Morschin. But the tourism was directed towards domestic, not international visitors. Poles perhaps would come, due to their geographical proximity (the border a little over an hour's drive from there), and the similarities in the Polish and Ukrainian languages would make up for the fact that signs and information were only in Ukrainian. Two days before, at the botanical gardens in Kyiv, we had seen children cooling off, playing in the pool of water surrounding a fountain. Here we were again around water, but the steady rain and cold mountain air was a complete contrast to the scene two days before. We filled our bottles with the spring water, and drove on towards the mountain. (Upper right) A very fancy water fountain! (Lower right) Billboard advertising the local mineral water, with the slogan "Always with you." (Upper left) The ever-present Orthodox Chapel and its distinctive steeple.

The road was a mine field of pot holes, and it ran more or less parallel to a mountain stream. At one point it wound through a small village where the yard of every house had apple trees in bloom. The only central point in these villages was the ever-present Orthodox Church, with the onion-shaped steeple tops and crosses. Unlike the main churches in Kyiv, which have shiny gold minarets, these are silver-colored or painted green. There seemed to be no sort of commercial activity to justify being called a business district...even one store.

We drove up to a gate that announced the entrance to a national park. Once again, you had to know it was there and know what turns to make, because there were no signs directing people there. I had remarked to Abbie that Andriy must have known where he was going because he made turns at forks in the road, with no apparent reason for choosing left over right or vice-versa.

Andriy got out and talked a while with the guards at the gate. We thought perhaps the road to the top was closed, but all the information we got was that for $4 we could ride to the top on horseback. That was not an option we would take in good weather, let alone in the cold drizzle we were trying to make the best of.

By now we had concluded that the Carpathian Mountains are more like the Ozark Mountains than the Rockies. The sign at the entrance to the park confirmed our conclusion. It gave the elevation of the summit of the highest peak: 680 m (2244 ft.) above sea level. As far as that goes, we have much higher mountains on Madeira. The island is only 13 miles wide (21 km) and the central peaks are over 1600 m (5280 ft) above sea level. (What I found out later is that we only got into the foothills, and that the Carpathians do form a chain of rugged mountains, with the highest peaks over 8,000 feet in elevation.)

(Left) With the fog, we could only guess what the view would be on a clear day.
With all the recent rains, the unpaved road to the top was a challenge for the driver. He had to choose which rut to follow, or more likely, which ones to avoid to keep from getting stuck. Three or four kilometers up the road we came upon a group of buildings where people obviously come to have picnics and camp in the summer months. The little shelters and restaurant were made out of logs. A sign advertised ice cream, not likely to attract much business in this kind of weather.

It was around noon, but meals had to be ordered in advance. Andriy put in an order for the five of us, which would be ready in an hour or so. In the meantime we would go on up to the top and look around. At the top there was a grassy knoll, at the far end of which was a small Orthodox chapel. (Above, left) View of the inside of the chapel. The black-and-red cross-stitching is very typical. Later, Abbie asked a lady at a museum what the significance of the two colors is. Black represents the earth (the soil is very black where we were) and red represents the blood of the Ukrainian people.

The muddy ground made walking dangerous at times and miserable at best. Our feet were completely wet and almost numb from the cold. Abbie didn't stay out long and went back to sit in the car while the rest of us climbed the rocks and peeked in caves carved into the solid rock that were used by persons hiding from authorities. I was never quite sure of the date they were carved, but I thought I saw a sign there with the date of 1100 AD. The four of us guys climbed the rocks and passed through a narrow gap between two huge rock formations. The local tradition says that your soul is cleansed as you pass through this gap. I can guarantee that souls over a certain size have no hope of getting cleansed by that method.

(Above)Caves carved out of solid rock. Wet rock climbing is tricky business. (Left) Yuriy coming through the cleft of the rock. (Right) My turn to be between a rock and a hard place.




We went back to the camp ground, where our meal was ready. We ate in a small log hut built in typical Ukrainian style. Basically it's a square structure with the fireplace in the center and the chimney rising out of the peak of the pyramid-shaped roof. The entrance occupied 1 of the 4 areas around the fireplace and tables were set in the other 3 coves. We had a bowl of mushroom soup...not cream of mushroom like you get in a can...more of a broth with mushrooms in it. This was followed by the typical potato dumplings and tea. The meal for the 5 of us cost $17.








































TOP (Left) The entrance to the camp ground. (Right) Maybe another reason we thought the Carpathians were like the Ozarks: an Arkansas razorback!
CENTER (Left) Outside the tiny dining hall. (Right) The fireplace in the center, and fortunately it was working!
BOTTOM (Left) A blown fuse meant a candlelight dinner, and a long, available-light exposure turned Yuriy into a ghost. (Right) A fresh mushroom soup that hit the spot.



It's still common to see fields being plowed with horses and horse-drawn wagons being used to carry lumber or hay.







Before returning to town we visited a nearby monastery, but we were so cold and wet that we weren't too interested in anything except getting back to a warm house and dry clothes.
(Left) An unusual pulpit built in the shape of a boat, with 2 figures casting nets. Taking Jesus' words about being "fishers of men" literally? (Right) Gold-foil embellished icon over an altar in an outdoor pavilion at the monastery.