The Road Less Traveled

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Journey to Kolomyya and Arrival at On the Corner

After checking out of the hotel, I walked the 500 km with my suitcase (which survived this journey), and found a bus leaving for Kolomyya in 20 minutes (all the others were leaving later). The driver unlocked the back and laid my suitcase on top of the spare tire.  I was able to overlook this cringeworthy moment when he walked with me to the kassa and told the cashier that I needed a ticket to Kolomyya. He then showed me on the ticket where my seat number was!  He must have guessed I was a foreigner, but even so, to get that kind of service from a bus driver as a foreigner amazed me.

When the bus pulled in to the Kolomyya bus station, I asked the driver how to get to Vul. Peremohy—I knew from my map in Lonely Planet that I could walk that road to the On the Corner guesthouse I’d be staying at.  He pointed me instead to marshrutkas. On the way to the marshrutkas, a taxi driver asked where I was going.  It was raining lightly and I had all that luggage and I was not oriented yet, so I said “vul. Hetmanska.” He repeated back the street and number of the guesthouse! Again I was stunned.  Totally worth 15 hr.

He drove up to the house and set my big bag on the sidewalk. I rang the doorbell, then turned the knob and it was open.  Slav came and helped me (or rather, I helped him) carry my things upstairs to the spacious second floor room with a balcony.  He showed me the shared bath and said there are two other bathrooms downstairs.  I looked on my own at the library on the third floor.

I went downstairs and had lunch with a film professor from UNLV and a tour agent who had  driven from Italy via Budapest.  I enjoyed the vegetable soup (in chicken broth). The bread tasted homemade. The second course was shredded cabbage salad with sweet red pepper (not overly salted or oiled up), and pasta topped with chicken in a red-orange sauce.

            During lunch, Slav and Vitaly talked with the two men. In the course of the conversation, I learned that at this time of year, the mountain I thought I could try to hike on my own according to Lonely Planet (Hoverla) is likely covered with snow right now; it can only be hiked in July and August. I was glad I didn’t stay in Yeremcha Monday night and try to go at it on my own.

Around Kolomyya

After lunch, I took a short siesta, then decided it was time to see the city even though it was cold and rainy.  I walked first to the museum of Hutsul art.  Walking through those rooms, I saw types of wooden decorations and intricate carvings that I’d  seen replicated on souvenirs sold in Odessa and Chisinau, but here in the museum, I realized that people really used to make and use such things by hand.  The intricacy of it all was amazing.  I even took some pictures of the replica of the Hutsul hut, with a ceramic hutch similar to the one I had seen in Yeremcha. There were also exhibits of oil painting and a special exhibit on the writer-researcher-lawyer (?) Andri Chaikovsky who had lived in Kolomyya.

At the end of the tour I walked through one more room that turned out to be a gift shop.  There a ceramic dish with a bird design on it caught my eye.  When an object calls out to you like that, you have to buy it.  And it wasn’t overpriced.

From there I went to the pysanky (painted egg museum). It is a smaller museum, but filled with painted eggs by professionals and students from all over Ukraine and even the USA.  The best part though was that the building itself is painted and shaped like an egg!  I’m also glad I stayed in Ivano-Frankisk an extra day, as both museums are closed on Mondays.

I wandered down Chornomola street and popped into a shoe store to have something to do.  Adjacent to it—and this is the first and only time I’ve ever seen such a store on Earth—was a store with ladies’ raincoats on the right, and a wall of power tools on the left.  I can only hope it wasn’t a front for money laundering, especially since I bought a lovely plum short-waisted raincoat.  From there I popped in to the Kazka (fairy tale) café for a cappuccino and a cookie that tasted like it was made from almond paste and topped with coconut. The cappuccino was just okay, but it was good to get out of the cold and stare at the décor, large puzzle-shaped paintings of Ukrainian fairy tales.

I kept walking and found a couple of nice looking churches, the middle school, and the town hall building.  I didn’t expect to find a synagogue, but I did.  It’s only open Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; maybe I’ll try to go in on Thursday. Less than 2 houses away from the synagogue sat an old Audi with a small trailer full of pigs.  It would have been funnier if it hadn’t been 2 houses away from the synagogue.  Plus, walking past it I understood why pigs are used as a metaphor for filth.

Dinner is Served

I made my way back to On the Corner.  Slav greeted me and asked what time I wanted dinner. Would 8:00 be okay? Perfect, I said.  I worked on my pictures and blog. I didn’t want to walk downstairs right at 8 because I didn’t want to be rude and show up on time expecting dinner if they were running late. But at 8:03 (by my computer), Slav came up the stairs, knocked, and said dinner was ready.

I came downstairs and was a little sad to be at the long table alone.  And then the plate came.  It was steak and colorful potatoes. It was so pretty I almost couldn’t eat it.  I wished Gen were here to take a picture of it.  It turned out the steak was a thin pork cutlet, but it was grilled so prettily it looked like beef to me. And the potatoes were not potatoes—they were summer squash with bits of tomato, onion, and what I think was scrambled egg chopped  finely.  With my tea, Slav brought three small pastries (2 squares filled with poppyseeds and one mini crescent roll with a spot of jam). Though Lonely Planet may have exaggerated about the town being as “pretty as a picture”, they didn’t exaggerate about On the Corner.

Slav also said he talked with his father (after my request for a walking tour after reading in Lonely Planet that they offer excursions), and said there is a bus to Yaremche at 8:50. So I will have breakfast at 8 a.m. (on the dot), and his father will come at 8:30 to take me to the station and on a walking tour.  So I will get a second chance at Yaremche.  And a chance to try the famous coffee.

On the bus from Lviv to Ivano-Frankisk, I realized that Ukrainian drivers, unlike Moldovan drivers, have no fear of driving over roads with potholes (or maybe the potholes are smaller in Ukraine).  What I do know is that I had quite possibly the bumpiest three hour ride ever from Lviv to Ivano-Frankisk. It started off well, but when we got off the road to Chop (a major border crossing) it got really bad.  It reminded me of the time I visited Ft. Irwin and went bouncing across the desert in a Hummvee.  On the upside, I saw mountains for the first time since I could remember.

As we neared the town, I started to wonder how to get to the hotel. It seemed like the hotel was in walking distance from the bus station, but my bags were pretty heavy. I noticed the driver was making multiple stops in other towns, and wondered if I could get dropped off closer to the hotel. I asked the driver if he could stop near Hotel Nadia on Vul. Nazelezhnosti, but he didn’t understand.  Someone else on the bus understood though and said “I will show you.”  He asked the driver to stop and motioned for me to get off.

At this point I felt completely at this young man’s mercy.  I was on a quiet street loaded down with major, nearly broken down luggage and had no idea where I was.  But this being Ukraine and not Mexico or Peru (where taxi drivers can be accomplices in robberies), and being that I’m white, I felt the chances of danger were pretty slim.

The man, whose name was Volodya, walked me with my bags all the way to the hotel (approximately a quarter mile).  As we walked, we talked in English. He explained that he had a Ph.D. in paranormal psychology, “X-Files”.  His wife was working on a cruise ship, and he was studying English while living at home with their 5-year old son.  He also told a story about the company he worked for and something about Paul McCartney. (The problem wasn’t his English; the problem was it was hard to hear on the busy street with the sound of luggage wheels).

We arrived at the impressive blue and glass exterior of Hotel Nadia and I thanked him profusely for his help.  I went in and found out they had rooms available for 300 hr a night, including breakfast. There was also a discount at the restaurant and the beauty salon, and wifi–10 hr for 2 hours.  Since I had just lost my flash drive to a virus and had to send some stuff by email to the States for work, the chance to use my computer in the room was a Godsend.  The room was smaller than the one in Lviv and didn’t have a bathtub, but it was clean and modern and being on the 8^th floor had a great view of the city.

I went down to the hotel delicatessen for an early lunch. As tempting as the “kuri grill” (rotisserie chicken) was, I went instead for the grilled boneless chicken skewer (shashlik), marinated eggplant/carrot/red pepper salad, and seaweed salad (or as it’s called in Russian/Ukrainian, “sea cabbage”, морская капуста). I sat on the covered patio and ate, feeling like the only person there who wasn’t drinking beer.

I went back to the hotel, checked my email, and got dressed to walk around the city. I was thinking I had to dress up what with it being Saturday night. Though many women were wearing high heels, ironically I felt like the only person who wasn’t wearing jeans.

I walked down Nezalezhnosti to the part that is pedestrian only. It seemed there were modern shops but also shops that were closed, under construction, or covered with graffiti.  I made it to the “egg fountain” and then walked wherever things caught my eye—a tall mall with a “panoramic” elevator; a building with a clock tower that is home to a museum I promised to visit the next day; a church I also promised myself I’d visit the next day; and several outdoor covered areas for eating and drinking.  I walked in a big circle and started heading towards the Old Town restaurant I saw, when it started raining.  Even though it was cold and wet outside, one wooden, covered seating area looked cool. It turned out to be the outdoor (biergarten?) portion of the Beer House restaurant across the street. I passed on the fajitas in favor of solyanka (ham soup), but they were out. I looked at the menu again and saw the words “bahchar”, which I’d never heard of, and “national dish.” I decided to try it. It was creamy soup with ham, and a side of horseradish!  I also ordered a cocktail with Bailey’s, Kahlua, and Cointreau. When the waiter brought it, he said something I couldn’t understand even after repeating it three times. Finally, I said, “po angliski?” He said, “Fire.” Ah, he was saying “pozharite”. He lit the drink on fire, then told me to drink it immediately and rinse out my burning mouth with a touch of soda.  Of course I chickened out on drinking it on fire, but the experience is memorable nonetheless. I moved onto their house beer, which had a nice smooth wheaty finish and was served in a glass that felt like a small barrel.  It was so fun I didn’t even feel the cold.   On the way back to the hotel, I stopped at a patissierie for tiramisu and green tea.  Then I climbed into bed and watched BBC World until it was time to go to sleep.