Wanderlust Heaven!

My final day in Odesa, and by extension Ukraine, was fairly lazy, even by my standards.  It had gotten pretty cold and felt a lot like New England…the old buildings, the falling leaves, the crisp air.  My overnight bus trip had worn me out, and I just felt like lying about reading…but managed to get up and do some strenuous exercises:  abdominals, resistance cord, and then a good run around Shevchenko Park as darkness fell.  It’s rare I manage to put those different exercise bits together – afterwards  I felt simultaneously refreshed and spent.

Hotel Passazh had a ‘European Business Center’ downstairs which had wireless, so got on the web.  Exchanged Skype messages with John in Shanghai, who was in ballistic mode because he’s been drinking the local milk and realized that he might have consumed 10 liters of milk in the past couple months – milk that might have contained melamine, of which you’ve by now no doubt heard.  I completely understood his fury – even though it comes with the territory, in China things are rarely what they seem.  The scandal is even showing up on Ukrainian television.

Checked out the ‘Chumby,’ a bizarre, nearly formless Internet-enabled device thatcan do about 100 different things, but seems to have no core application.  Anyone have one of these?  Thoughts?  Seems to be a poster child for retail therapy, methinks…

Friday night – not in an especially frisky mood.  Had a couple beers at Mick O’Neills…walked by Captain Morgans but it was packed and they were turning people away…ducked into Pobeda but it had a weak vibe and didn’t feel that inviting.  I decided to take it easy and not try for a memorable last night in Ukraine.  And, in truth, I was ready to roll on.  I had generally liked Ukraine, and Odesa in particular is an excellent city…but four months in the ex-Soviet lands had been enough.  If I had had a great social network here, it would be different, but I was ready for things to come a little easier – logistics, social life, etc.  In SouthEast Asia everything’s at your fingertips, and making friends is effortless.  I think it’s still my favorite region, but am keeping an open mind and I do enjoy the contrasts between places.  Ukraine and Turkey – that will be a huge contrast, I’m sure.

Saturday midday, went down the Potemkin Steps to the boat terminal, where I was supposed to register for that evening’s boat to Istanbul.  Registration was predictably annoying – the UkrFerry window was shut and the sign had ’13.30’ as the time of re-opening.  It was now ’13.50’.  Re-opening actually occurred at ’14.25’ so I had stood there for over a half-hour, along with a slew of other passengers and hangers-on.  I had spotted the boat, the MV Caledonia, on my way into the terminal – fairly large, although not luxury-cruise size.  Probably the largest boat I’ve been on since my time in the Philippines…I should make an effort to do more sea journeys.  But I’m getting ahead of myself here…

Finally registered, was told to return at 7 p.m. for boarding.  Easy enough.  Had a few hours before then, mostly spent them walking around the city, taking in the sights and sounds.  Noticed a bank advertisement offering 10% deposit returns on US$.  Returns on the Ukrainian gryvnia were more like 17%, but the inflation rate is high here so that would eat away much of that.

Tried to use the balance of my mobilephone credits.  Can check emails here with my phone, so have been especially good about staying on top of them – feels a bit like being back at work, but I do hate have 75 emails in my inbox.

Took care of stupid little things (which could snowball and become issues), like repairing my backpack raincover.  This sheet, from REI, is useful in protecting my pack from dust and dirt as well as rain, but it’s a bit flimsy and gets torn easily.  Found a store selling ‘scotch’ (that’s what scotch tape is called out here), bought a roll and fixed up the cover.  Felt a minor sense of accomplishment.  I wouldn’t say I was killing time – fixing the cover truly was important, OK? – but I was semi-anxious to get on the boat and head out on the Black Sea already.

Walked by a Turkish restaurant, Turkuaz, which was offering some meal deal.  Tempting, but I’d be in Turkey soon enough.  Turkish and Greek food are amongst my favorites and I fully expect a gastronomic blowout once I hit Istanbul…there are so many superb cuisines in this world, it’s hard to imagine more diversity and better offerings.  If I had to choose a last meal, I’d have real trouble doing so.

There seem to be no KFCs in Ukraine – odd.  Plenty of McD’s, zero KFCs.  I’d always thought, and I’m sure written in this blog, that fried chicken is the world’s favorite food, pizza perhaps being right up there too.  But that doesn’t seem to be the case out here.  I stand corrected…

Walked to the hotel to get my pack.  Went by a shop blasting out the New Radicals song ‘You Get What You Give,’ a great track on a great album.  I think the New Rads only had that one album, not sure what happened to them.

Got my pack.  Wanted to take a taxi down the hill to the boat terminal, was told by hotel reception it would cost 20-25 gryvnia.  But when I went outside and talked to the cabbies hanging out there, they wanted 50, and wouldn’t budge.  It’s always better to flag down a cabbie in motion than one parked at a stand, but I didn’t see anyone coming so was forced to deal with the cabbies at hand.  They were obviously in legion on this – I asked 3, and got the same response.  Well, fuck them.  I wasn’t paying US$10 for a 2 kilometer ride down the hill, I wanted to save my remaining gryvnia for food/drink at the terminal or on the boat.  I hitched up my pack and walked.  I had just enough time and, besides my basic economic objection, I refused to reward stupid Ukrainian cabbies for their thieving ways.  I was more than happy to be done with these crooks and to travel to places with either cheap taxis, or at least metered taxis.  Good riddance.

Reached the terminal, boarding was just starting.  The usual chaos…no real queues, people with shocking amounts of luggage (smugglers, natch), and confusion about the process.  Eventually we filtered through Ukrainian immigration and customs.  No problem.  I noticed a few ancient ‘CCCP’ Soviet passports on the officer’s desk – I’d pay good money to have one of those for nostalgia’s sake.  Remember the Soviet Union?  It’s been almost 20 years since it collapsed…and I still can hardly believe it.

The duty-free store at the terminal was laughable.  Tiny shop, crammed with two things:  booze and butts.  There was zero pretext of limiting alcohol carried onto the ship – unlike luxury cruises where they work hard to ensure that you consume their pricey liquor.  In the FSU, alcohol is king and it’s a god-given right to carry your body weight with you wherever you go.

There was a concert at the top of the Potemkim Steps, it was reaching fever pitch as the boat got ready to pull out.  Were the good people of Odesa sending me off in style, or were they celebrating my departure from their land?

My cabin on the MV Caledonia was a shoebox.  Not only was it smaller than the master bathroom at Dad & Ellen’s place in Boston…it was far smaller.  And there were 4 bunk-beds in there.  Yowza.

I hoped I wouldn’t have the full load of cabinmates, but they all showed up.  First, Ibrahim, a 25-year-old Turk who was in the apparel (smuggling) business in Odesa and apparently had just lost US$1,000 at a roulette table.  He had a bottle of Jack Daniels with him and was in the mood to drink.  There went any concerns I had that my cabinmates would be hardcore Muslims who would be praying the entire voyage.

Ibrahim was a real wild child – got right into the whiskey (I had my own bottle of Russian cognac and did the same), all the while telling me he was a ‘hooligan’ and that he preferred smoking reefer because that didn’t give him a headache the next morning.  I half-expected him to pull out a hash-pipe but I guess he hadn’t wanted to risk that.  I wasn’t sure how to feel about Ibrahim – I was happy to have a lively cabinmate and sidekick, but I also wondered how he’d mutate as the evening and voyage went on.  I’d see soon enough…

Ibrahim also told me he had heard that George W. Bush is Jewish.  As context, I had told him I was Canadian..that was my cover for the trip.  But, of course, conversation turned at one point to world events and politics, and I had to spend some time convincing Ibrahim that W. is a Christian fundamentalist and not a Jew.  I think I won him over, but it was a fight I was not expecting.

Our two other cabinmates showed up.  Both older Turkish fellows, I believe they were doing construction work in Ukraine.  Normal enough guys – one had no more than 3 teeth, but wasn’t shy about it.

Our cabin was right near the ‘Disco Bar’ and Ibrahim and I gravitated towards that after draining much of our respective bottles of liquor.  We plopped (fell) down on a couch and I drank a couple beers while we attempted a conversation over the incredibly loud pop music.  Ibrahim was getting sloppy and at one point I feared he’d vomit all over me (or worse, my mobile).  I’ve written on several occasions that my internal sense of doom is usually accurate – stay tuned for more proof.

At one point I was pretty sure I heard the song ‘Shabbat Shalom.’  But I’m really not too sure…

My Soviet cognac was nasty stuff – right up there with Ibrahim’s Jack Daniels.  Both of us were probably in over our heads…then again, as long as it wasn’t vodka, I’d be fine.  I wasn’t too sure about Ibrahim, though.  He might have been a hooligan, but he didn’t make it past midnight.  I think I fell asleep in the disco for a few minutes – I didn’t recall one of my other cabinmates being in the disco, but when I turned my head there he was.  He smiled at me like I was insane.  He and cabinmate #4 weren’t drinkers, but I also wouldn’t really call them well-behaved.  There were a few Ukrainian lasses on board who were heading to Istanbul for ‘some work.’  Cabinmate #4 was hanging all over one of them, and it was a sorry sight.  It occurred to me that there might have been a solid reason for my lack of sea travels in the past few years.

Not sure what time I finally went to sleep.  But the seas were very rough that night, and I awoke to the sound of Ibrahim in the upper bunk across from me, rolling around in agony.  Then he leaned over and dry-heaved…my damage control sensors went into hyperdrive, I reached down to the tiny table and grabbed a plastic bag, thrusting it into Ibrahim’s hands.  A carpetful of vomit in that tiny room would have been sheer hell.  I silently cursed Ibrahim as he continued to do his thing…I figured he was a weak drinker…but then it occurred to me that he might just be sea-sick, with the Jack D merely an accomplice.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt – later on he did claim that it wasn’t the whiskey, it was the waves.

That day was shrouded in mist.  I managed to straggle upstairs for breakfast – not that my stomach was in great shape, either – cognac and waves both played a role.  I sat outside and stared at the horizon to calm my stomach down.  Popped my last promethazine tablet, which is part of the famed ‘Coast Guard Cocktail.’  I forget what’s the other half.  The problem is that once you start feeling sick, it’s too late to take the medicine.  But this seemed to help.  Went back in the cabin – Ibrahim was understandably still out cold, but so were my other cabinmates.  Sleeping looked like a great idea…reading would have been iffy given the seas and my stomach, and I wasn’t comfortable pulling out my laptop and watching a DVD, given the company.  Slept till lunch…ate a bit, then down to the deck for more gazing…and finally back to the room.

Ibrahim was actually getting worse – he had another puking session, at which point I helped him to the doctor’s quarters, where they jabbed him with something that seemed to take effect quickly.  Back in the room, the old goat cabinmate had invited a few of the Ukrainian girls in for a drink (of our booze, natch – he had none of his own).  Jesus, Ukrainians can drink.  Ibrahim and I were too tired to complain, and eventually the girls took off.  I suspect one of them was giving grandpa a hand job under the covers – I have a piece of evidence but it’s not bulletproof.

We then slept all afternoon.  I haven’t slept that much in a 24-hour period in years.  Awoke to calmer seas, and Ibrahim’s settled belly.  Got up and had a beer from the bar…watched the sun go down (should have taken a photo of that – exquisite)…and pondered the remaining stretch of the journey.  A little Ukrainian kid was running around and pretending to shoot me, he was somehow connected to the Ukrainian girls (son of one of them?  Scary thought.)  I was inspired by the orange setting sun, mellow seas, and relaxed feeling, and belted out a bold version of ‘Love Boat,’ which the little kid absolutely loved.  For the rest of the night he was bugging me to sing – I think I did another rendition once or twice.

Went to dinner – last meal on the boat.  Food was altogether forgettable throughout, but that was expected.  A 36-hour voyage for US$190, what do you expect?  At my table was a tall skinny fellow who was rather quiet.  I also wasn’t feeling too social, but we eventually started talking.  Turns out he’s a German mathematics/physics teacher named Hartmut who’s on a 9-month sabbatical, and is traveling through these lands en route to Iran, where he once spent a few months.  Intriguing guy – well-traveled and very thoughtful.  I seemed to recall him dancing around in the disco the previous night, his head bumping into the ceiling.  But don’t quote me on that, I was probably seeing things…

Took it easy that night – just a couple beers at the disco.  One of the Ukrainian girls sat next to me, we tried to have a chat but it wasn’t easy.  Besides language barriers, there may have been cognizance issues…

Seas stayed pretty calm and I think I slept fairly well.  One concern I had was that I’d sleep too long and miss our passage through the famed Bosporus Straits, separating the Black Sea from Istanbul and the Sea of Marmara.  We were supposed to reach Istanbul by 8 a.m., which meant that we’d enter the Bosporus around 6:30 a.m. or so.  Somehow I got up exactly as we came upon the straits, the boat seemed to rock a bit more, probably because of nearby boats.  I got up, dressed, grabbed my camera, and went to the top deck to check out the views.  Which were spectacular – I’d been to Istanbul once, briefly, but hadn’t really seen the straits, nor much else.  Saw Hartmut up on the deck and we resumed our conversation.  As we took photos and hung out, we implicitly decided to hang out together in the city that day.

Got to the docks a little late, but then had to wait a while.  Turks got off first and foreigners had to chill.  Hartmut gave me some of his oranges and apples and I was totally relaxed – in no hurry to shoulder my pack and start walking.  Eventually we were let off the ship, and we went into the terminal to clear customs/immigration.

Funny process – the scanners weren’t in service, so a single guy went through people’s bags.  As for immigration, they had our passports and a fellow would just yell out an approximation of someone’s name, that person would then go up and pay for the visa, collect his/her passport, and go back to fetch bags and clear customs.  Low-tech, but OK.  Hartmut and I were ‘processed’ at the same time, and we were waved right through customs without even a cursory check of our bags.  ‘Midnight Express’ crossed my mind…interestingly enough, the prison in that movie is now the Four Seasons Istanbul, rooms going for US$800/night.

That was the start of a very enjoyable day, one of the most pleasant I’ve had in the past two or so years on the road.  We got some cash, then found a modest little café right near the Galata Bridge, where we sat for an hour, drinking tea and eating kebabs.  Kebabs for breakfast – you heard it here.  Then we walked over the bridge into Old Istanbul, up the hill into the Sultanahmet area, which is the touristy part of town, OK, but you’re a stone’s throw away from the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofya, and Topkapi Palace.  Hartmut needed to find a room, I had one booked.  We parted ways for a couple hours and did our thing, then met again to check out the Blue Mosque and the neighborhood.  He’d been here 5 years before, so knew more than I and showed me around.

The Blue Mosque:

We were both starving, and after seeing the interior of the Blue Mosque we noticed a vendor selling potatos stuffed with all sorts of ingredients.  It’s called ‘kumpir’ and puts the Wendy’s Chili and Cheese version to shame.  The vendor whips the potato and even adds extra potato, then butter and cheese, peas, beets, a bit of meat, sauces, etc.  The thing is a mound of food and is more than a meal.  One of the strangest things I’ve eaten.  Not quite as strange as Kyrgyzstani breizol, but not far behind…

It was raining, but the air temp was cool and comfortable, I suspect the summer would have been hot as hell.  We had a nice long walk, from the Blue Mosque to the Hippodrome park, over to Topkapi gardens, then down the hill to the Golden Horn – we were ready for a beer or two, and were most likely to find one under the Galata Bridge, where there’s a string of cafes and shops, like a Turkish version of Florence’s Ponte Vecchio.  Found a great little place and had some Efes drafts while the sun set.  It was still Ramazan (Ramadan), and it can be a challenge to get a drink here, but there are places and this was one of them.  No big deal.  It’s actually a pretty good time to visit, at sunset people are ready to feast and there’s a huge amount of activity and buzz in the air.  I hear that after Ramazan the discos and bars get very busy again, I’ll be back in mid-October and will check ‘em out then.

Hartmut and I were both pretty beat by this point, and meandered back to Sultanahmet.  We sidetracked to the Spice Bazaar, where we both bought some sweets.  I don’t really have a sweet tooth, but some of the products they have here are irresistible.  I bought a bag of walnuts covered in some sort of amber candy, a bit like honey.  Excellent.  After a few months in ex-Sovietland, the foods of Turkey are simply mind-blowing.

Got a bit lost going home.  Wandered into what seemed some sort of graveyard, which eventually opened into a courtyard where tea and waterpipes (narjileh) were on offer.  We sat down (were escorted to a tourist section, to be accurate), and had some tea and a waterpipe.  Very relaxing – a fine way to spend my first night in Istanbul.

Stopped for a plate of meatballs (kofteh) before getting back to the pension.  I think it will prove difficult here to maintain my girlish figure…Istanbul probably has some of the world’s best street food, right up there with Bangkok.  I still rate Tokyo the best eating city on earth, but that might be challenged.

The guy at the front desk is named Asi, sounds like Ozzie in English.  I asked him if he had heard of Ozzie Osbourne – I believe he had.  I try not to be a stupid tourist but sometimes succumb…

Had noticed a few things during the long day running around Istanbul.  One:  many women wear headscarves here.  I’d heard the practice was growing, but perhaps one in three women (in the Old City, anyway) were wearing them.  Two:  Turks are good at looking a bit stylish while hanging around town.  Many guys wear an old sport coat, for instance.  Three:  Istanbul is very touristy compared to Ukraine or Russia, but I was not unhappy about that – at least you can get your laundry done without hassle, you can get tickets and change money easily, etc.  A bit of infrastructure can be worth the annoyance of nasal American voices all round you…

Next morning, got up early, had breakfast on the pension’s rooftop (commonplace here), and visited the historic Aya Sofia, aka Hagia Sofia, which until 1453 was the largest church in the world.  Then the Ottomans took the city and converted it into a mosque.  If you’re interested in more history than that, there’s lots online to read, but I’ll just say that the interior of the now-museum is absolutely massive in scale and is astonishing in its design and style – even if you’re good and sick of churches, as I’ve become, this place really stands out as one of the top buildings in the world.  And the Ottomans left many Christian frescoes and mosaics in place – right above the imam’s pulpit there’s a mosaic of Jesus and Mary, still intact.  I guess Muslims consider Jesus an early prophet so no harm having his image there…

Next, walked across the street (the sights in Sultanahmet are that close) to the entrance to the Basilica Cistern, an underwater reservoir that was built by the Byzantines, then forgotten for centuries until a Dutch archaeologist found it in the 1500s.  There are still some old Ottoman houses with access to this body of water, and in fact it the Dutch explorer found it again because some people told him they could get fresh water by lowering a bucket from a hole in their basement, and could even catch fish sometimes.

This place is odd and captivating.  There are walkways over the water, and scores of old columns holding up the ceiling.  The water is everywhere – the air feels wet, and water drips from the ceiling.  Watch thy camera, oh tourist.  And fish swim in the waters, which are apparently still clean but who knows.

There’s also the obligatory ‘Cistern Café’ with overpriced food/drink, no one was sitting there when I visited the cistern.

Started to rain again.  I escaped by ducking into Karadeniz café and having a Turkish coffee and a bowl of lentil coup – mercimek, which is a bit like Indian dal bhat but is lighter in color and in flavor.  Rain eventually let up and I went out.  Had noticed that my flimsy daypack was ripped, yet again, and saw a tailor’s sign.  Went upstairs and found the shop – the tailor didn’t speak English but it wasn’t difficult to communicate my problem (the bag, that is).  He sat down and finished up his current job, and indicated that I sit on a chair nearby.

I read my guidebook for a couple minutes, then another customer came in and spoke with the tailor.  This guy then went behind the door, removed his pants, and handed them to the tailor.  I was a bit foggy from the rain and from all the morning’s sight-seeing, so I didn’t think much about this, just continued to peruse my guidebook.  At one point I looked up and saw the guy still standing behind the door, pant-less.  At that point I put the pieces together and started to laugh.  So did the guy, sheepishly.  The tailor soon joined in.  The customer spoke a bit of English and told me he ripped the seat of the pants jumping over a big rain puddle.  I laughed even louder, so did the other two.  We must have gone on for 5 minutes, until the tailor somehow finished repairing the guy’s pants and he paid and left.  Then the tailor finished my crappy little pack – he pretty much remade it, cut off the failing material and restitched it so that it should hold up for a while longer.  He’s a real tailor and did a nice job – my earlier rescue efforts were in the hands of FSU dezhurnas (floor ladies) who were willing, but not that able, it seems.

Funny episode.  I think there will be lots more to come here, the Turks seem pretty light-hearted and the place in general seems ripe for laughs.

The rains come and go here, and then there’s bright sunshine.  Reminds me of storms in Johannesburg, the sky would suddenly go dark, there’d be hellacious lightning and thunder, then pouring rains, and a few minutes later bright sun again.  Weird.

I continued to traipse by street-food vendors and storefronts and drool uncontrollably.  This sort of food really does it for me – must be genetic.  I’ve written before about conditions under which I’m likely to visit McDonald’s, i.e. countries with mediocre local food (Philippines), and countries with ridiculously overpriced local food (UK, Russia).  I think Turkey may be the country where I’m least likely to visit a McD’s – the local food is terrific, it’s fast, and it’s pretty cheap.  Even in Japan I’d hit a McD’s once in a while, just to sink my teeth into something solid…here, that’s just not an issue.

Had lunch (my third meal of that day) in a koftesisi (meatball place).  Sat at a table next to a Caucasian couple – we chatted a bit, they’re from New York and were on a Holland America cruise ship.  They had a local woman showing them around, and I copied their food and drink choices – a plate of meatballs, a dish of bean salad, and a yogurt drink.  All excellent.  The fellow was fun to talk to – we commiserated about the financial crisis, and he told me that he was on the phone with a friend, who noticed that Lehman had just declared bankruptcy and whose stock was at US$0.18 a share.  While they were talking it jumped a penny, and this fellow said that even in the worst of times, you can make 6% (do the math).  So perhaps it’s time to buy, or will be soon.  Of course, it all depends on what happens with the U.S. bailout package – I hope the government takes equity from the banks and shareholders first, before writing any checks.  They did that in Sweden in the 90s and while that was a smaller-scale situation, it was analogous and it worked well.  We should not let urgency overtake intelligence in this race…

I walked off my lunch in the Grand Bazaar, a collection of some 4,000 stores under roofs and open air.  Certainly a huge tourist trap, although there are good deals to be had and locals participate as well.  I just bought a Pantene shampoo – what else do I really need?  Sometimes I think I miss the point of these places, but I just like walking around and looking at a few things, I don’t generally feel any need to buy and thus be bathed in retail therapy.

When I entered the Bazaar I took a quick photo.  A vendor came over and said, ‘one photo, one carpet.’  I said that I had no home and no place to put it – I was just a traveler.  He said ‘how can you fly without a carpet?’  Clever – I’ll bet these guys have a book of quips memorized.  I told him I’d come and buy a carpet when I bought a place to live.  Powerless by now, he smiled and agreed.  I walked on.

Bought and read the International Herald Tribune, my first newspaper in four months.  All bad news,except for the Red Sox’s decent play and impending playoff bid.  They’re unlikely to win the division, but they’re alive and kicking, and are probably as good as anyone in the American League.  Let’s see.  Playoffs start next week.

Checked out my emails – the Pension has wireless, hallelujah.  Accoms standards here in Istanbul seem quite good – value isn’t superb, but they know what foreigners want and provide it, for a cost.  More than you can say for Ukraine…

Am experiencing an odd software problem – sometimes Skype doesn’t open when I boot up, and even when I double-click on the icon.  I usually get it to start by opening the Control Panel – perhaps Skype thinks I’m about to uninstall it (and sometimes I have that in mind), then it opens.  Any ideas?  The same is often true of iTunes, if Skype isn’t open then iTunes won’t open either.  Something is holding them back – is my CPU too busy?  Something else?  Help, dear readers.

Was feeling the effects of the incredible food here, so went for a long run along the Golden Horn.  There’s a good sidewalk/promenade that goes on for a long ways – flat, but because of the rains there were massive puddles I had to get around.  Still, a good run, I was sweaty and exhausted when I got back to the pension.  Asi laughed when he saw me.

Of course, I only ran because I want to overeat, so I showered and walked up Divan Yolu Caddesi to a little sandwich shop that specializes in fish.  I got a calamari sandwich for a few lira, it was terrific and reminded me of cheap calamares sandwiches I’ve had at Café Ideal right off Madrid’s Plaza Major.  Then I went back to the Karadeniz café, and had an Iskander kebab.  I was now seriously full, but while walking near the Blue Mosque I came across loads of people feasting in Ramadan fashion, and I got a small plate of baklava to cap things off.  Delicious, and super-rich.

You’d think I could hold no more in my stomach, but I managed to waddle down to North Shield Pub, and had a couple beers.  I was trapped there for some time by major-league rains that came out of nowhere, and I was lacking an umbrella.  Didn’t mind too much getting stuck at a bar…

Saw a photo in the IHT of the Islamabad Marriott, which was bombed the other day.  The place was gutted – looks like a construction site and not a luxury hotel that was damaged.  Apparently the President and his team were supposed to have dinner there, but there was a change of plans and they barely missed getting torched.  Coincidence?  Pakistan is a scary place these days, even new friend Hartmut is giving it a miss after he leaves Iran and heads to India…

Next morning, had breakfast on the terrace again, was joined by an older French-Aussie woman who had just arrived.  I told her what I had enjoyed thus far (I skipped the previous night’s food porn), then went downstairs, where I was supposed to meet Hartmut for a coffee.  He didn’t show after a half-hour, so I took off and continued my sight-seeing.  Visited the Suleiyman Mosque, named after Suleiyman the Magnificent, who’s buried there and who was probably the greatest of the Ottomon sultans.  Nice place, but I was more impressed with the view from the Golden Horn that I was with the up-front experience.

Walked down to the water, and found a restaurant I’d read about called Hamdi Et Lokanasi, famed for mezes and kebabs.  It’s on the 3^rd floor – went up and the views across the Horn were brilliant.  I stood there and took photos till a waiter came and seated me, on the balcony next to a Western couple.  Turned out they live in Key West, and were another cool American couple.  They were expressly not on a cruise ship, they’re independent travelers, and have really been around.   Ellen has been to backwaters like Burma and Laos, and Courtney has seen his share of countries as well.  We sat there eating and talking for well over an hour – they told me what they liked in and around Istanbul, I gave them pointers on Vietnam.

They were staying in Sultanahmet as well, right across the street from my pension.  I felt lucky to have randomly met them, they were great travel discussions partners.  Made me feel a bit better about being a gringo to meet dynamite folks like them.  Am I starting to sound at all like Michelle Obama?  Anyway, it goes without saying that we seemed to be politically aligned, and economically as well – Courtney and I bitched about our Goldman shares – but I think we’re both cautiously optimistic that they’ll climb one of these days…

Ellen and Courtney were both done or nearly finished with books they’re reading about Jordan, which they’re visiting next, and told me they’d drop off the books at my pension.  Very nice of them – English books in Turkey are outrageously expensive.  And sure enough, when I got back to the pension that evening, Ellen had left her book for me, it’s by Queen Noor and is about her adjustment to life in Jordan and that country’s nature and development.  I plan to eventually visit Jordan and this book should give me some much-needed background.  They got my blogsite from me and I think they may check in and read this post at some point – I hope they do.

Views from the resto:

I also had a note from Hartmut, he’d overslept that morning and apologized profusely.  He proposed meeting next morning for breakfast, but that wouldn’t work for me, so I emailed him proposing a drink that night, hoping he’d check email.

During the day I also visited Rustem Pasha Mosque, noteworthy mostly because they give out free Korans to visitors.  I might try to read mine, but expect to fail miserably.  I tried to read the Old Testament years ago and didn’t get far.

Got a haircut at the barber down the street.  He did a good job, there were only two things to note.  One, he had dragon-breath and at times I nearly passed out as he hovered over me.  Two, he was a bit too thorough – he cut my nose hairs (which weren’t that bad, really), and pulled out a lighter and proceeded to burn my ear hairs.  I’m serious – I’ve seen people lightly burn off threads on shirts, but never ear hairs.  A Turkish customer in the next chair was laughing, probably provoked by my nervous laughter, and then the barber joined in, much like the episode in the tailor’s shop the day before.  What is it about being in Turkish shops that’s so damn funny??

Went for another run along the Horn.  Came back, showered, went out for something to eat, and ran into Hartmut down the street.  He’d read my email and was coming to look for me.  Good timing.  We looked for, and soon found, a rooftop bar to grab a beer.  We lucked out with Southern Cross, the rooftop was very much like the rooftop bars in Hampi, India – lots of mattresses, pillows and blankets.  We had a couple large Efes drafts apiece and talked for two hours – about all sorts of topics.  Hartmut’s a teacher, and we talked about the teacher-student relationship – staying in touch after moving on, sexual tensions, etc.  I told him about teachers and professors who influenced me.  Miss Gibson, my first grade teacher, for whom I painted a picture of a frog on a lilypad that she hung on her wall and maybe still has hanging there.  Mister James, a high school English teacher who said one day in class that while the act of intercourse has become commoditized and debased, the simple act of kissing has remained pure and exciting.  And Professor Cid Scallett from business school, of whom I wrote fairly extensively last April, after my 15^th business school reunion – Cid was a deeply influential figure in my life, and although we didn’t communicate for 15 years, we recently re-connected and I hope we become close again as years go by.

We went out for a late-night feed after the beers, and we out till 1 a.m. or so.  Then we said goodbye – Hartmut was likely to get his Iranian visa the next day, then head east towards that country.  Our paths wouldn’t converge anytime soon, but we’ll keep in touch and perhaps meet again this winter/next spring in India or SE Asia.  I had a blast sitting around chatting with him – I really can’t say that about too many people.  Hartmut, godspeed.

BTW, there’s a real German angle here.  Hartmut got his Turkish visa for free (mine cost US$20), and many Turks speak German.  Germany for decades has had a guest worker program aimed at Turks, and millions of Turks live or have lived in Germany, creating an interesting link between the two nations.  It’s not always a perfect bond, but it’s unique.

It’s now Thursday morning, I’m racing to blast out this entry before checking out of the Side Pension.  There was just a knock on the door – I cursed for a second, thinking that management was jumping the gun on getting me to check out.  But it wasn’t management, it was Courtney, whom I’d met at the Hamdi restaurant the day before – he was done with his “Live from Jordan” book and was giving it to me.  Cool.  This book was written by an American student of Arabic, who spent a stretch in Amman and then Cairo, and wrote about his experiences there.  I’ve now got this book and the one by Queen Noor, as well as the Hungarian ‘Book of Fathers’ that Bert gave me in Budapest.  Those will keep me busy during some long bus and train rides here.  I’d better devote some time to reading one of these days, or I’ll have to lug all these books around for weeks.  Not the worst problem to have.

Alright, now management should be barging in on me, so I’ll wrap this up.  Going to meet a classmate from b-school later today, that should be good fun.  Over and out.

Weird week.  First, the global financial system got bent very badly and almost snapped.  I had to intervene and pump huge amounts of capital into the system to maintain liquidity.  As you might expect, I had some tough choices to make – save Lehman or save AIG?  I decided against saving Lehman because I used to date a Lehman banker’s daughter and she was a real bitch.  So actually it wasn’t that difficult a choice.

Second, for some bizarre reason, John McCain surged ahead of Barack Obama in the U.S. polls.  But just wait until my under-the-radar voter registration drive starts to pay dividends.  Gallup doesn’t have the telephone numbers of young African-Americans, it seems.

Third, the pro-Western governing coalition here in Ukraine collapsed, with new elections probably forthcoming.  Looks like the Ukrainians really can’t decide which horse to ride, the West or Russia.  Given what’s been going on in the former, can you blame them?  But for now I’ll sit back and let things play out.

As Woody Allen might say, that was indeed a week, or a life – just not mine.  But it made for some rough moments and urgent phone calls, as I’ll describe a bit later in this update.

I should have known this wouldn’t be a smooth week.  In the Odesa train station buying a ticket to Crimea, I stopped for a coffee and drank it at a stand-up table near the counter.  A fellow joined me – no big deal.  He tried to strike up a conversation, but it wasn’t working too well.  I was amused to see him pour a shot of vodka and drain it – this was about 10 a.m.  Welcome to the FSU.  Finally I understood what he wanted – money.  He asked me if I was a ‘biznesman,’ and I said, honestly, no, just a tourist.  That managed to get him off my back.  I haven’t been in the giving mood lately, the markets have been awful and I’m just not in the mood to hand over my dosh.  Hard-hearted, I am.

Have been reading my Turkey guidebook, as I’ll be heading there in a few days.  I’m looking forward to checking out Turkey, it’s about time I left the FSU behind and experienced a different culture.  I will probably miss the dominant expression of FSU life, though – walking down the street with a beer in hand.  If you could do that in the States, it would be a far better place.

But for the time being, I’m still in Ukaine, still doing my best to navigate the shoals of indie travel here.  I have a feeling the Turks are better organized for tourism…although in a sense it’s been refreshing to be in Ukraine and come across very few fellow tourists – I do feel like something of a trailblazer here.  The day before I left Odesa, I tried to book a hotel in Simferopol, the capital of Crimea and my first, brief stop in the peninsula.  That was utter torture – the first place I reached was ridiculously overpriced, then I couldn’t connect with my other options.  There are only 4 hotels, as far as I know, in the entire city of Simferopol, a provincial capital with 350,000 souls.  After dialing several times I realized that the phone #s had changed, even though my guidebook is new.  Huh.  Treo to the rescue – I got onto the web and found different tel #s, dialed the one for Hotel Moskva and got through.  More surprisingly, the receptionist spoke some English and I was able to make a booking.  Cool.  Being able to access the web with your mobile is hugely valuable – and is now a bit cheaper, as one of those usually-intrusive Palm.com emails was unusually helpful and showed me how to turn off images and use less bandwidth.  Bravo, Palm.  Now it’s time to grow some balls and come up with a truly revolutionary replacement for the Treo, the last half-dozen models have all been tweaks on the original platform.  Isn’t it painfully obvious that Apple etc. are eating Palm’s lunch?

As soon as I finished making my Hotel Moskva booking, a woman came over and asked me if I was American.  I guess she overheard my call – I do have a loud voice.  Turns out she’s from Odesa but now lives in Florida.  She couldn’t believe that I’m traveling around Ukraine solo, without speaking the language.  I can’t believe it at times either.  Conversation quickly turned to politics – I asked her to make sure that everyone she knows votes for Obama – Florida is a battleground state and we all know what dodgy stuff went on there in the 2000 election.  Her political views were similar to mine – we commiserated at length about how awful the past 8 years have been.  We chatted about Ukraine and its odd aspects as well.  Very nice lady.  As we were getting ready to part, she said something that really bummed me out – she said that the “Russians and pro-Russian Ukrainians are laughing at the U.S.,” as a result of the Iraq War, the credit crunch, the busted budget, etc. etc.  Huh – imagine that.  Here’s a country that was bankrupt 10 years ago, hanging by a thread, disgraced and discredited – and now they’re laughing at us.  The U.S. in 1998 vs. the U.S. in 2008 – what a diff 10 years makes.  If for no other reason than that we’re now laughingstocks to former Communist nations, we need to get the Republicans out of the White House.  How can I get that into an Obama commercial pronto?  Someone out there, please do something with this info…

Spent my last few hours in Odesa taking it easy.  Sat in the park reading my Turkey guidebook.  Had a couple beers at popular hangout Mick O’Neills.  Walked by an SUV cranking out ‘Staying Alive.’  Had an enormous shwarma from a street kiosk.  Was now ready to depart Odesa and take the overnight train to Simferopol.

Went to the Richelieu Hotel to get my pack.  Gave my Foer book, just finished, to the quiet guy manning the reception desk.  I hadn’t been too keen on the staff at Richelieu, they seemed bothered by any request and preferred to sit and surf the web for hours.  But I did strike up a short conversation with this guy, on my way out – turns out he’s a French teacher and doesn’t speak much English.  We thus spoke in French, which I can do pretty well.  He teaches French, but wants to learn English as it’s much more useful.  Oh, the French wouldn’t like hearing that.  He seemed pleased to accept the Foer book and it might help him improve his English.  I felt pretty good as I left the hotel – I had done a decent deed and been friendly.  You’ve gotta spread good karma…

Walked to the train station – it took a half hour, but it was cool out and I wasn’t shvitzing, even with the big pack on my back.  Taxis in the FSU are a rip-off and I prefer to vote with my feet.  Got to the station, found my platform, and surfed the web a bit.  Found out that James Posey left the Celtics and signed with the Hornets.  Bummer – he was a valuable player for us last year.  Now the other subs, like Leon Powe, need to step it up.

Got on the train.  The train lady was friendly, and seemed to get a kick out of me and my foreigness.  Ukrainian train ladies, and hotel chambermaids (dezhurnas) are much friendlier than their Russian counterparts and can be quite maternal at times.  She brought me a tea and made sure I didn’t do anything stupid during the journey.

I was in a 2-person cabin, my cabinmate was an older gent who spoke almost no English but was incredibly good-humored and friendly.  We managed to share our views on NATO, the war in Georgia, and Ukrainian politics.  He hates the ‘big 3’ Ukrainian politicians, including Viktor Yuschenko, the current Pres. and darling of the 2004 Orange Revolution.  You hear a lot of that here – the aftermath of the Orange Revolution has been very messy, and people seem fed up with their politicians.  Then again, they’re not unique in that regard.  But the government here, as I wrote earlier, just splintered and it’s unclear what will happen.

Eventually we went to sleep, and I probably slept for a good 7-8 hours.  The entire ride was about 12, and we had talked for a couple hours when the train left Odesa, so the timing was great.  Woke up as the train was stopping in a random station in Crimea, and I got some food on the platform, assisted by the train lady.  Ukrainian vendors are always on platforms selling produce and other food – I wish the Russian stations were as well-supplied.  My ride on the Trans-Siberian would have been much better if there were some good local food to eat.

Got to Simferopol, took a taxi to Hotel Moskva.  The review of this place hadn’t sounded good, supposedly it was a Soviet-style monstrosity.  When I got there it didn’t look that bad, although huge renovations were taking place on the exterior.  At reception I provided my details – a couple fetching lasses who spoke a bit of English gave me my key.  Went to my room – and it hadn’t been cleaned, looked like it had just been vacated.  Ugh.  Went back down to reception, told them, and got a new room.  This room was fine.  I think that’s happened to me before, just once, but I can’t recall where and when.  Sort of funny.

After showering, I walked over to the bus station to buy a ticket to Sevastopol.  That was easy enough – the ticket agent giggled when I spoke in Russian. “Adin bilyet (one ticket)” – “zaftra (tomorrow)” – “Sevastopol” – “utra (morning) – “adinatsat (eleven a.m.)”.  I can’t help but sound like a 5-year-old child, or Rain Man…but I got the info across and got my ticket.

It was raining, but I wanted to stretch my legs and check out the city, I only had this one day/night there before going to Sevastopol.  Caught a bus, wasn’t that clear where I had to get off, but I just decided to get off after a while and turned out I wasn’t far from the main circle, Sovetskaya Square.  When I reached the square it started to pour, so I ducked into a little cabana that was part of an outdoors restobar.  I lent my umbrella to one of the waitresses and she was very nice to me as a result.  Had a small pizza and some fries, and a couple beers, and by that point the rain had mellowed.  Went back to the hotel on foot – it was about a 30-minute walk, quite nice actually, alongside a canal.  The only problem is that they don’t bother trimming tree branches above the sidewalk, so in stretches you have to walk on the street or you’ll get scratched to hell by the branches.

Got an email from Amazon.com, a Latino author just published a new book and because I bought Alvaro Mutis’s “Maqroll” book they tagged me as potentially interested in this new book.  I wasn’t interested, but the email reminded me that I need to dig up and re-read the Mutis book, which still rates as the best book I’ve ever read.  I know where the book is in Boston and vow and grab it next time I’m there.

Took a long nap.  Then walked back into town, it was Friday night and I wanted to see how Simferopol people got down.  En route an older woman stopped me and asked me something which I couldn’t understand.  We weren’t really able to communicate, except for our names – she’s Lydia – and that she has some children who live in Panama City, which I believe is in Florida (and Panama, of course).  She seemed to be a fan of the U.S.  Now I’ve found one here in Ukraine…

Simferopol has a few decent nightspots but it’s not that exciting.  Was happy I only planned one night there.  Had a beer at an outdoor bar that was part of Falstaff resto.  Falstaff is a downstairs spot and the upstairs entrance is shaped like a sinking ship.  Hmmm.  The bar had a big bottle of absinthe on the shelf – reminded me of Bert having a glass of the stuff in Budapest.  Mostly walked around after that, ducked into a few places but they weren’t that compelling.  Lots of sheesha (water-pipes), lots of cheesy casinos.  I am getting tired of FSU nightlife, it’s either sheeshas (with flavored tobacco – how passé), sofas and casinos, or walking around/squatting in a park drinking beer.  They really could use a few more ‘normal’ pubs in these countries – there’s no lack of drinkers, and it might be a good business to get into.  I’ll have to think more about that, along with a karaoke bar concept that Bert and I were noodling on during our extreme bathing tour of Budapest.

Went back to my room around midnight.  Decided to see if my UkrTelecom card still had any time remaining – booted up my laptop, and I was able to get on the web.  This card might have some sort of ‘positive bug’ – it only cost 12 gryvnia (about US$3), but I swear I’ve used it for 10+ hours and probably much more than that.  Not sure how long it’s supposed to last, but when I bought a 60 gryvnia card in Kyiv they told me it would last 10 hours.  Not only that, but this network is blazingly fast and you can do all your downloads in minutes.  I downloaded iTunes 8, which has this new ‘genius’ function which mines your music library and suggests 1) new music you can pick up on iTunes, and 2) playlists you can create with your current tracks.  Pretty neat – I haven’t used it much yet, but it shows some promise.  I imagine it’s fraught with the same issues that Amazon.com’s algorithm has – it doesn’t cover all your music/purchases, it doesn’t have a feedback loop (i.e., you might buy something, and then hate it, and Amazon.com/Apple wouldn’t know), and the mere act of suggesting something can introduce some bias.  But hey, I’m sounding like a consultant here.

Also updated a bunch of other third-party software programs.  That kept me up till nearly 4 a.m.  Felt like hell when I got up for breakfast around 9.  Had a couple hours before checkout and my train, so did some more web surfing.  Got an email from friend Dri, we (along with her sister) were planning to meet in Damascus in mid-October but her sis can’t get a visa and it was far from certain that I’d be able to get one in Turkey.  So she’s bagging Syria, but now it looks like we’ll just meet in Turkey.  That should be a lot of fun, I went to Tufts with Dri and her sister Lisa, and don’t see nearly enough of them.

Also spent a half-hour analyzing my scuba dives, using the Suunto Dive Manager program.  No epiphanies there, but I’ll keep looking.  It’s cool to have a visual profile of your entire dive right on the screen – depths, temperatures, times, etc.  All the stuff my dive computer captures shows up here.  Good stuff.

Went to the bus station.  While standing around, saw an exotic woman come in – I guessed she was a Tatar, Crimea has a couple hundred thousand Tatars and this is a longtime home for them.  During WW2 Stalin deported a quarter million Tatars to Uzbekistan and thereabouts, he apparently thought they were potential Nazi collaborators, which very likely was a fantasy.  Still, they were displaced for decades and only in the ‘90s did they start to return en masse to Crimea.  They’re having a tough time of it, but continue to plug away and try to reclaim their property and heritage here.

Got on my bus to Sevastopol, a city that was closed until 1996.  Sevastopol was the key battleground of the Crimean War, and today is famous for housing Russia’s Black Sea Fleet.  I had wanted to check out this famous naval city for a long time, now was my chance.

Sevastopol hotels are very poor value, so I had arranged an apartment through an agent called Travel2Sevastopol.  Natasha, the rep, met me at the apartment and showed me around.  Ancient gas-powered water heater, but otherwise the place was nice enough and the bed was large and comfortable.  Felt like asking Natasha if she wanted to give it a try, but I held my tongue.  Unpacked my stuff, then went for a walk around town.

Most of the city was destroyed by the Nazis – there was a lengthy siege, as there was during the Crimean War.  Sevastopol has known its share of tragedy.  The modern city is quite nice, lots of white buildings and views from hills.  I bought a beer and walked around some more.  At one point I passed a drunk who eyed my beer eagerly – I almost gave it to him, but didn’t think that would be in his best interest (or mine).  Hard-hearted, I am.

Caught up on U.S. sports on the web.  The Red Sox are fighting hard for first place in the division – they’ll at least get the wild card, but winning the division is much preferred and I think they’ve got a good shot.  I still can’t believe Tampa Bay is in first – well, at least it’s not the Yankees, who are basically out of the playoffs for the first time in something like 15 years.  What a stretch run – but Boston has had the better of it in the past few years.  Sweet revenge, baby.

Noticed that there’s a major league pitcher named J.J. Putz.  I love it.

That evening, found a decent, semi-normal bar called Madam Shoko, with live music and draft beer.  As I sat at the bar, I couldn’t help but laugh at some memories of the Foer book, which included an undersexed seeing-eye dog named Sammy Davis Junior, Junior.  As I giggled a few people looked my way – they were either disgusted or wanting to get in on the joke.

I also couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck’s going on in the world.  It feels like 1979 all over again – a crappy U.S. President, high oil prices (at least they’re dropping), a weak U.S. economy and diminishing global position.  It was Saturday night, and word had it that Lehman Brothers was having emergency weekend discussions to find a buyer – or it might go bust on Monday.  Who’s going to fix this?  There are no assurances that the strong America of 1980-2000 is coming back – it certainly can, but we need some fresh leadership, peeps.

The weather in Sevastopol was terrific – like New England autumn weather, probably about 2 weeks behind, i.e. a bit warmer than Boston.  I hear that it gets hot as hell down here – when Churchill came to Yalta (my next stop, stay tuned) in February 1945, he famously called the place ‘the Riviera of Hades.’  I wouldn’t think it would be that warm in Feb., but apparently they do have some harvests in November and December…

Next day, checked out various Crimean War sites.  I’m not that much of a Crimean War aficionada, but when in Sevastopol…plus, there are a number of WW2 memorials in town.

Looked out on the harbor and saw a cargo ship that for some reason was attracting about a trillion seagulls.  Must have been carrying fish guts or something about as aromatic…

Walked by a café that was belting out a Scorpions song at 10 a.m.  Charming.

At the WW2 eternal flame memorial, there were the usual honor guards.  But in this case there were 2 sets of boys and girls, and I mean boys and girls – they couldn’t have been more than 15 years old.  Usually they have stern-looking adults in these booths…in Sevastopol they have grinning children.  Pretty funny – these somber places could use this sort of levity.  Of course, the lads were holding guns – the girls were not.

All in all, Sevastopol is a pleasant place – hard to believe that 12 years ago foreigners couldn’t visit.  A few shots:

Went back to the apartment to relax.  Turned on the news – a Boeing crashed in Perm, Russia, killing nearly 90.  Apparently it came down almost on top of the Trans-Sib Railway.  Weird.  One thing’s for sure – we shouldn’t bother manufacturing bad news, there’s more than enough that occurs naturally.  So behave yourself and smile, people.

Later on, did some more sight-seeing.  There’s a ‘Panorama’ in a park near the city center that shows memorabilia from the Crimean War, and has an enormous 360 degree panorama of battle scenes.  Pretty impressive, and they’re obviously quite proud of the thing.  Here’s a look:

Outside, saw lots of naval cadets getting on buses.  Wasn’t sure if they were Russian or Ukrainian, given that both countries dock ships here.  It certainly added to the muddled pic I have about southern Ukraine…the place seems more Russia than Ukraine, and I think the locals would be happy to hear me say that.   Does that presage mayhem in 2017, when Russia’s Black Sea Fleet has its lease here run out?  I forecast choppy waters, and perhaps well before 2017…

I had read that you can see the Black Sea Fleet from the hills in the park, but the trees were in the way.  I came across a small amusement park with a merry-go-round, and recalled my Nukus views from the top of a merry-go-round in that city.  Bought a ticket and took the ride.  That worked – I got some clear views of the fleet, which was not all that impressive, not that I’m a naval guru.  The most interesting bit was that there were several empty berths – were these ships out and cruising Georgian waterways?  I wondered…

Walking back to the apartment, I stopped to pick up some toiletries.  A double-pack of high-quality toilet paper – 57 gryvnia, about US$12.  I laughed at the clerk – and instead took a couple rolls of the cheapo Soviet-style grainy stuff, which was about a tenth of the price.  I wonder who would shell out $12 for two rolls of toilet paper…

My back, and other body parts, have been sore lately.  Not sure why – bad beds?  Lugging around the pack?  Crappy posture?  Decided to take a break from running (a potential culprit?) and focus on yoga for a while.  Had a couple good practices and felt better afterward…but the back is so unpredictable that it could continue bothering me, and possibly get pretty bad again.  If it does, that might be a good excuse to go back to the Philippines and see my chiropractor friend Dr. Pardis, who has been an absolute miracle worker for me over the past couple years.

Walked by a small supermarket near my apartment (“my apartment” – I’m getting possessive), and wound up buying some bread, meat, and other items, and essentially made my meals for a couple days.  I guess I felt like being quasi-domestic for the first time in a long while – not that I was cooking, mind you, but at least in the apartment I had a fridge, a cutting board, and utensils, so I could pretend to be a normal person for a few days.

Returned to Madam Shoko bar again that night, Sunday night.  The waitresses there are sensational and wear some provocative outfits – obviously intelligent ownership at Madam Shoko.  Read a bit more on the web about the Lehman mayhem.  How depressing.  America no longer makes the top autos, or stereos, or clothes, or [fill in the blank].  But we always could say we had the biggest and best banks and had an overall superior service sector.  What does it say when our supposedly brilliant investment banks buy/hold countless quantities of mortgage-back assets, can’t value them correctly, and go down the tubes as a result?  Not only that, but we’re bringing down the rest of the world with us.  Not exactly a great advertisement for joining the Western world.  I understand that companies come and go and that a degree of ‘creative destruction’ is natural and fine, but the current mess seems well beyond that and it’s disgraceful in my opinion.  The so-called geniuses have been left wanting, for one – what was the CEO of Lehman doing over the past several months, after Bear, Stearns collapsed?  Shouldn’t he have created a war room and figured out how to stave off this sort of thing at his firm?  The CEO, Richard Fuld, was by all accounts a well-liked and respected guy on Wall Street, and had spent his entire career at Lehman – which was perhaps the problem, maybe he couldn’t admit what was happening.  I don’t know.  I’m sure it’s difficult managing a business like his, even in good times, and want to empathize as much as possible, but I can’t help but feel that stupidity/arrogance/hubris played a large part in the collapse of Lehman and it hurts all of us.

So the ‘geniuses’ are anything but that.  The other major issue, in my opinion, is that the wider public is incredibly naïve and ill-informed about basic financial knowledge.  Sure, there were predatory lending practices which deceived people…but any reasonably well-educated and intelligent borrower would know when to say no, and it seems there weren’t too many Americans who said no over the past few years.  This house of cards was exacerbated by the rampant consumerism and ‘status anxiety’ you find in the States – people just can’t seem to live in a modest home or apartment, they need a big one.  They need a couple large cars/SUVs, even if they don’t haul stuff or have kids.  We can place some band-aids on top of the current housing mess and eventually right the ship (I hope we can, at least), but dealing with the lack of savings and retail therapy mentality is even more important and likely more intractable.

Thankfully there are still some innovators in America.  Now that American banks are coming up snake-eyes, the list of top American companies is pretty short.  Apple, Google, and a few others are about all we can really be proud of these days.

Tried to take my mind off these sorts of depressing thoughts.  Installed a third-party app called HoliDates on my Treo – it has the dates of all holidays until 2015, and places them right on your calendar.  I’d been meaning to do this manually, but this program saved me a lot of time and was cheap.  I suppose I too suffer from consumerism and retail therapy needs, but I can satisfy my yearnings for $9.95…

Next morning, watched the televised signing of the Zimbabwe power-sharing agreement.  Mugabe looked particularly uncomfortable sitting there.  I can’t see this bifurcated government going smoothly, these two guys despise each other.  I’ve got a bad feeling about this.  Of course, the U.S. played no role in forging this agreement, we were too busy in Iraq so we just left it to the Brits.  And in Latin America we’re being kicked out of several countries – we haven’t bothered keeping on eye on our own backyard lately.

That afternoon, took a minibus out to the hill of Sapun Gor, overlooking the ‘Valley of Death.’  This is where the Charge of the Light Brigade took place in 1854.  Today it’s a vineyard, overlooked by Sapun Gor, where there’s a WW2 diorama and some old machine guns and artillery.  Historic place – but not that easy to envision the infamous charge given the peaceful nature of the site today.

Exchanged emails with friend Alan, in San Francisco.  I was getting concerned about McCain’s strong poll numbers since the GOP Convention.  Al had some comforting words – he doesn’t think there’s a huge amount of real support for McCain (he’s only seen one McCain sign in a yard), and thinks that Obama’s cash advantage, voter registration efforts, and overall ground game might be enough to put him over the top.  I hope so – I heard that the Obama campaign has gotten lots of mobile phone #s by offering free bumper stickers, and they’d better be preparing to text/call new voters on November 4^th (and before) and get them to the polling booths.  Still, a good ground game can be trumped by people’s hearts and minds, and Obama needs to make his case more plainly.  I continue to think it’s ridiculous that blue-collar/middle-class voters look to the GOP, when that party has historically ignored them, at least economically.  Obama needs to speak to these people and tell them that it’s wrong that they can’t take their sick child to the doctor down the street when he’s sick…and that it’s wrong that the richest Americans have gotten the biggest tax breaks in the past 8 years…and that it’s wrong that American kids perform so poorly relative to kids from other developed countries.  As well as the standard patter about the Iraq War, the budget, etc.

Had dinner that night at Traktir, which means ‘pub’ in Russian.  Nice little outdoors place where the waitrons wear naval outfits.  Great food – mushrooms in a light cream sauce, and chicken cutlets in sour cream.  Better than they sound, believe me.  People in this part of the world love their mushrooms, beets, and sour cream, and the mixing of different ingredients and flavors like these make some dishes very tasty.

Took it easy that night – was bummed about the stock market woes and my own portfolio, which predictably has taken a beating.  Dreamed that night about having a tick on my forehead, and when someone removed it for me, a large dent remained.  A harbinger of the week to come?  Probably, because on Monday morning I learned that Lehman didn’t find a buyer, and filed for Chapter 11.  I also read that the Ukrainian government splintered, and that Obama’s poll numbers were still not great.  Oh well, at least we haven’t had a terrorist attack lately.  Now that would really fuck things up – don’t think that the bad guys don’t know that.  The authorities had better be very attentive over the next couple months or so – right before the U.S. elections will be a highly sensitive time.  At least expect a new bin Laden video.  But hey, don’t worry – George W. Bush will protect us!

Read that Richard Wright, a founding member of Pink Floyd, died.  Then I got in a cab to the bus station, to travel to Yalta, and my cabbie was playing Dark Side of the Moon at full blast.  I told him I approved and he smiled.  Then, on the bus to Yalta, a guy in front of me was wearing a 2008 Roger Waters Dark Side of the Moon Tour t-shirt.  Clearly the stars were aligning, I’d have to play non-stop Pink Floyd at my hotel in Yalta, and try to divine insights for the upcoming elections…

I visited Sevastopol for its naval flavor and its Crimean War history.  I wanted to see Yalta for its beaches, promenades, and above all the Livadia Palance, where FDR, Churchill and Stalin met in February 1945 to sign their historic agreement carving up postwar Europe.  You all (presumably) know the story so I won’t elaborate here.

Checked into Hotel Krim, a real hangover from the Soviet days.  The room was OK, and even had aircon, which is probably critical in summertime.  The receptionist (who I believe also took my booking over the phone the day before) took a liking to me and seemed to enjoy calling me ‘Michael’ in a Russian sort of way.  I unpacked my stuff and headed to the UkrTelecom office to call my financial advisor/broker Yuhin, in Hong Kong.  That morning he had sent me an urgent email asking me to call him, and I had already tried, but the connection was terrible.  This time, I’d try Skype.  My ‘magic wireless card’ still, amazingly, was valid, so used that and called Yuhin.  We had a good chat – he wanted me to move heavily into cash, at least 30% and as much as 70%.  The latter figure sounded way too dramatic a shift for me, and told him that, and he said he’d put together some recommendations and email them to me.  He sounded pretty concerned, although I think he had already calmed down – his email that morning was very gloomy and mentioned ‘systemic collapse’ and things like that.  The markets had indeed reacted very badly to the Lehman collapse and the fire-sale of Merrill Lynch, but they hadn’t collapsed…although I suppose it will take some time to unravel/unwind things having to do with Lehman.

Walked around the waterfront promenade.  Yalta is very developed, and the boardwalk is extremely tacky but also a lot of fun.  You can wear Hell’s Angels outfits and get your photo atop a classic motorbike…dress up like Russian royalty…ride go-cars…pop balloons with darts…you know the drill.  And, of course, everyone walks around with a beer.  The promenade is called nab Lenina, and there’s a huge Lenin statue at one end.  These people are very pro-Russian.  But I saw a New Balance store on the promenade, and a McDonald’s too – Lenin would not be pleased.

Speaking of McD’s, I just bought some shares, and doubled down my positions on Coca-Cola and Philip Morris.  In my mind, these are the holy trinity of American stocks, at least in times of instability.  Americans will always drink Coke, eat Big Macs, and smoke Marlboros.  And foreigners will too.  Bless their souls, all of them.

A busker on the boardwalk was surrounded by crowds that night.  He had a guitar and a box in front of him, if you dropped in a coin he’d perk up and play for a few seconds, then become stationary again.  Pretty creative, although it got old after a couple minutes – like nearly all buskers.

A guitarist was playing Abba’s “Winner Takes It All.”  A bit of a Russian accent, but not that different from Swedish-accented English, so it worked pretty well.

Saw a guy with a huge potbelly wading into the surf later on.  I considered going for a swim here, but the beaches are heinous pebble affairs and I doubt the water’s clean.  A look at Yalta and her beaches:

A few older friends have recently gotten on Facebook.  Now I’m not the world’s oldest member.  I’m also not the most enthusiastic member, given the annoying number of emails that come my way.  But at least I’ve been able to reconnect with some old friends and net-net it’s a decent thing.

Around 11 p.m. or so, found a ‘normal’ pub, called Pub Pinma, and sat at the bar.  The barman spoke a bit of English and was friendly, we chatted a bit.  A very drunk older woman was to my left, and she became increasingly friendly too…she maneuvered herself onto my lap within minutes.  Eventually the barman came to my rescue and dragged her off me, and walked her out the door.  I thanked him, and he smiled and said ‘she’ll be back’ a la the Terminator.  And he was right, she did return for a bit, but they got her out again.  Sort of entertaining.

Later on a fellow came in and ordered a beer in English.  Sounded American, I asked him where he came from and he said ‘Alaska.’  I wasn’t trying to get a precise answer, but there it was.  The fellow, Garry, works in construction in Yalta for a local company and has had a colorful life, flying bush plains in Alaska and fighting in the Vietnam War.  We had to have our talk on Governor Palin, whom he sorts of likes – but he’s voting Obama in November because he feels like U.S. has gone downhill in the past decade.  He tells people he’s from Alaska, not the U.S., because Russia used to own Alaska, and even today there are towns in Alaska with Russian names and some Russian speakers.  Seems there’s a bit of affinity remaining between former colony and former master.  I refrained from complaining about the stockmarket, because Garry has very little cash saved up and seems not to care about that – I found that refreshing, given the hand-wringing I’ve seen and experienced myself lately.  That said, I wouldn’t be comfortable having a threadbare savings account when I’m 50+, but Garry isn’t retiring anytime soon and seems to love what he does.  Good for him.

Stumbled home around 2 a.m.  Had some trouble finding my hotel, despite its central location, literally 100 meters from the pub.  My radar shuts off when I have a lot to drink – not sure what I can do about that, except, perhaps, drink less.  Did I mention that the stockmarket has been shit lately?

Woke up with a severe hangover, and owing Yuhin in Hong Kong another call to review his recs.  Got up, went back to the telecom office, fired up the laptop, and downloaded his files.  Called him, we had a solid 30-minute call, and made some decisions.  Yuhin used to work for me at Monitor – this call felt a bit like old times.  Of course, now we were dealing with my money and not the client’s, but you know what I mean.  I decided not to convert a great deal of my holdings into cash, just a modest amount – we’ll see if I was wise or not pretty damn soon, methinks.

Remembered that I came to Yalta largely to visit the Livadia Palace.  Thought about how to get there, it’s a bit outside the city.  Had to get a bus ticket back to Simferopol for the next day, so walked up there and took care of that.  Looked around for minivans to Livadia – there was one, but it looked like a real ordeal (crowds, etc.), so walked back to town, still mulling my options.  A taxi would be easiest, but a complete rip-off – I didn’t want to give a thieving cabbie the satisfaction of taking me for a literal and figurative ride.  Saw a minivan heading west, hopped on that, and got off at the termination point, near Spartak Cinema.  Eventually found a connecting minivan that took me to Livadia.  It was now about 3 p.m., I’d spend at least a couple hours working my way here, but here I finally was.  Walked for 15 minutes and got to the palace…tried to buy a ticket, but they weren’t selling any more that day.  Torture.  I didn’t understand why they weren’t selling any more, but I did learn that the palace was open the next day.  I’d have most of the day in Yalta, my bus wasn’t leaving for Simferopol till 8 p.m.  I gnashed my teeth and vowed to return and get inside the next morning.  Coming to Yalta without seeing the room where the agreement was signed would be unthinkable.

Walked down to the beach, about 800 meters away.  Was somewhat concerned that I’d have to walk all the way back up – it was surprisingly steep and despite a sign mentioning ‘elevator,’ I had zero confidence that the way back up would be so easy.  Got to the beach – and found it was possibly, barely, to pick my way along some fairly dodgy pathways back to the city and my hotel.  Took about an hour, but was a good walk, through Primorsky Park with its statues of Chekhov and Gorky.  Was by now completely exhausted…and wanted to snooze for a few hours, but now that my sked had been mashed, I’d have to get going on this very slog entry right away, instead of the next morning – when I’d try again at Livadia Palace.

This entry has been written over the course of 3 days, during a wild week, so forgive any repetition, or, more likely, an ongoing, in-progress series of thoughts on the market and politics.  What I wrote on Wednesday night was, in some cases, nearly obsolete a half-day later – I’m sure you’ve been subjected to the same forces of nature this week.

Blasted out the bulk of the blogwork, rewarded myself afterward with a splurge dinner at upscale Tatar resto Harem.  Terrific food and drink – I had a scrumptious seafood soup, then veal fillets in mushroom sauce.  Top-notch stuff.  Also tried a glass of Georgian wine and a glass of Crimean – both pretty good.  The bill was a bit higher than I expected, particularly given my portfolio meltdown during the week, but sometimes when you’re not in the best of moods you have to fight back and try to enjoy yourself.  And as friend Ken said in a call later in the week, it’s not like I’m a highly-leveraged London banker with an insane mortgage on a flat in the capital, another on a holiday home, and a brand-new BMW Z-series.  I have no debt, so the swings I experience are, for now, only paper gains/losses.  But that’s only minor consolation – all it takes to turn paper into cash is a single email and a few hours, so these losses are far from theoretical.

After dinner, I walked around for a while, then went back to Pub Pinma for a beer(s).  Different bartender, and no Garry – so just stayed for one beer.  Was exhausted from the Livadia attempt and writing the blog, which tends to take a bit out of me while simultaneously providing a good, therapeutic lift from recounting the week’s adventures.  Checked email before crashing and found out that Israel’s Foreign Minister, Tzivi Lipni, won her (ruling) party’s primary and is likely to become PM very soon.  Good news, in my mind – she’s moderate and might be Israel’s best shot to forge an agreement with the Palestinians.  The alternative, unfortunately, is Likud and Bibi Netanyahu, who already served as PM once and did little more than stall the peace process.  I hope Lipni gets a fast start and comes to some agreement, then uses that to fight the next election campaign, which isn’t far off.

Woke up the next morning, checked news and email again, and found that the federal government basically bought AIG.  Hmmm…I suppose the big boys like Treasury Sec Paulson felt they had to take this step, and I don’t disagree…but aren’t the Republicans supposed to be the party of orthodox free-market economics and small government?  Yes, they are.  Yes, and that’s in part why we’re in such a mess – very little regulation, benign neglect by the government, etc.  Republican Presidents like Reagan and Bush II are famed for stating that government is bad and should stay out of your way – but they’re also the two biggest budget-busting Presidents in U.S. history.  Perhaps the only good thing to come of this mess is that it shows that when the shit hits the fan, there really aren’t any true-blue Repubicans, or Democrats – ideology goes out the window when you need to act to save the system.

Sticking with the political-economic theme, also noticed a new poll that showed Obama up by a couple points…not that it’s a real lead, given the margin of error.  But I imagine that the economic meltdown is hurting the GOP gang…and if losing 25% of my net worth is what it takes to elect Obama president, then I’m willing to take that hit.  Even 50% would be acceptable if we can just get the Republicans out of the White House…

Heard that Tina Fey spoofed Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Line – a natural skit for Tina to do.  I didn’t get to see it – will look for it one of these days on YouTube (if a reader has it handy, please email me the link).  But I can imagine another SNL skit, with the Palin family at a state dinner in a European capital.  The French President could teach Todd Palin which fork to use, which glass for wine and which for water, etc.  Maybe Sarah would insist on killing and bringing her own meat to the dinner.  The Palins don’t sound like a ‘typical, normal American family’ to me – they sound like a bunch of hillbillies.  The 17-year-old unwed daughter is pregnant…the boyfriend has bragged about being a redneck…Todd Palin was a member of a far-right secessionist party in Alaska…and Sarah has views that make the mother of Carrie (Steven King book/character) seem moderate.  What a cynical choice by McCain to pick her for Veep…it wasn’t a dumb choice, it was quite smart, but it goes entirely against his experience message and I’m very pleased that the Palins are now getting publicly vetted for the Mohegan firing in Alaska and various other controversies.  The gloves are off, the glowing accolades are diminishing, and I hope to see this continue.

Meanwhile, our so-called President, W., didn’t give a press conference in about 2 months, and yesterday finally came forth and gave a vague 5-minute speech without taking any questions.  It’s pretty clear that the intelligent members of the Bush Administration – Paulson, and I don’t know who else – have for all intents and purposes sidelined Bush and are calling the shots, getting his OK as a necessary formality/evil.  Which is a very good thing, in my book – for a while Cheney and that lot were making all the calls, but they’re by no means qualified for this real sort of work and I’m glad a former Goldman Sachs head is in charge.  I’ve got some classmates who work/worked for Goldman and they were all stars.

Bush’s excuse (proffered by his mouthpiece, Dana or Tony or whomever) for not talking to the press is that he didn’t want to interject himself into the election campaign.  Well, now – he’s still the President for a few more months, there is a full-blown financial crisis (and recession) on, and Presidents (good ones, anyway) are supposed to show their mettle and leadership in times of trouble.  Not Bush.  I mean, wouldn’t it be possible to say something intelligent that provides some direction to the people and the markets, without it being partisan and open to attack by the candidates?  Maybe not, but if I think about the best past Presidents, they’d be up to this challenge and wouldn’t shirk it.  What days we live in…

The Red Sox almost caught Tampa Bay, but then lost a couple and fell 2 games back.  Will be tough to win the division, although still very possible.  At least we’ll be in the playoffs again – and the Yankees won’t.  Na Na Na Na Na….

It was rainy and cold…I felt like slothing around, but had to return to Livadia to try again.  Again, a clusterfuck – had to wait in line for the ticket-seller to return from somewhere to her booth, then ticket in hand had to wait outside the gate while hordes of package tourists walked right in.  Entire process took a good hour.  Third world service at first world prices.  You can only enter Livadia in a group, so they make the non-package gang wait and either merge with like-minded others, or glom onto an existing package group.  I understand why they force people to get the guided tour, and I suppose it’s helpful (it’s in Russian so I got zero benefit from it, but hey).  One reason is that they can steer you towards the souvenir shops, of which I counted four, all positioned at the tour’s end, and all en route to the single building exit.  I split from my group near the end and wandered a bit, then blew through the heinous gift shops and out the door into freedom.

Livadia was built in the early 20^th century in classical Italianate style, for Tsar Nicholas II.  He and his family only spent 4 seasons there before the Bolsheviks took over, then it was game over.  The Palace has some poignant pics of the Romanovs – the tsarevitch wearing a sailor suit, the tsar’s daughters on the beach or playing tennis, etc.  Sad stuff – they had no idea what was coming.  I’d been to the cathedral in St. Petersburg where their remains, discovered a few years ago in a forest in Ekaterinburg, now rest, and they’ve been sainted by the Russian Orthodox Church.

The upstairs is devoted to the Romanovs and the history of Livadia Palace.  The downstairs is all about WW2.  The White Room where the agreements were forged, the English billiards room where the papers were signed, FDR’s living and dining quarters, and so on.  Lots of classic photos of the 3 dudes kicking back and trying to look relaxed as they carved up Europe.  I found this part of the tour fascinating (even though I had no idea what the guide was saying).

So it was worth the annoyance, after all.  Couldn’t come to Yalta without hitting Livadia.

Was getting ready to leave Crimea that evening.  Reflected on my week on the peninsula.  Crimea is an odd place – campy and cheesy, particularly Yalta, and way too crowded – in peak summer it must be unbearable, really.  But the views are good, there’s a lot of energy in certain places like the Yalta boardwalk, and there are loads of attractive women.  Like the rest of Ukraine, I didn’t find the locals all that open to foreigners, with a few exceptions of course.  No wild adventures to report from my month or so in Ukraine…but that’s how it goes, you can’t (usually) plan to have a memorable evening or escapade, these things sneak up on you and that’s the beauty of life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Black Sea, Turkey awaited.  Got an email from Turkmen, a Turkish friend of a friend, who had looked into getting a Syrian visa in Istanbul – I had hopes of visiting Syria after Turkey.  Nope – the Syrian Embassy there said that Americans need to get a Syrian visa in the U.S.  Well, that was clear.  I won’t be going to Syria – so I’ll just spend longer in Turkey, and/or visit Armenia and Georgia, and/or visit Lebanon and Jordan.

Spent a couple hours looking into hotels in Istanbul.  Not terrific value there, but I found one place in the touristy ‘hood of Sultanahmet, and another in the nightlife district of Beyoglu, so will hopefully split my time between these two areas.  I wonder what the two hotels will look like – you never have any idea till you get there, the online photos are always incredibly misleading.

I’ll be in Istanbul during Ramadan, which will mute things to some extent.  Oh well, you can’t time everything perfectly.  I will very likely be back for a second round, once friend Dri gets there in mid-October.  I have a feeling I’ll get a pretty good sense of Istanbul after 2-3 stops there.

BTW, my UkrTelecom wireless card is *still* working.  I must have logged 25 hours on it by now – there must be some loophole I’m exploiting.  When I was at Tufts my fraternity had gotten hold of a device that, when plugged into a Tufts photocopier, would allow unlimited free copying – we took advantage of that to make our weekly newsletter copies and it was a great gadget to have.  Our ongoing fear (because any benefit must have a countervailing force) was that some dolt would accidentally leave it in the photocopier, and we’d lose it forever.  Sure enough, someone did just that – can’t recall who, but it happened and then we had to pay for our copies…which have gotten cheaper over time.

Markets were still wild and crazy as the end of the week loomed.  I had no idea what would happen…I decided not to make any more trades, and let the smoke clear.

It was Thursday night – I had to catch an 8:05 p.m. bus to Simferopol, and then an 11:30 p.m. overnighter to Odessa.  Caught a cab to the bus station, traded some emails with friend Don (Washington Mutual employee) while waiting for my bus.  Don wrote that WaMu is having a round of layoffs soon and he wonders what his situation is.  He’s a wanderer at heart and has an impressive travel resume – I think he’ll wind up doing something different, and better, pretty soon.

The dollar has been inching up here – noticed on a exchange office that they’re now selling dollars for 5 gryvnia apiece, up from 4.7 or so a few weeks ago.  The magic ‘5’ number – let’s keep this trend going, if the market’s falling at least I might get a small boost from better dollar purchasing power.  But I’m not betting on it…

Walked by a press agent and realized how much I miss reading the newspaper and newsmags.  I hope Turkey has some English-language publications…

Back to the bus trip…while waiting at Yalta station I saw an 8:00 bus to Simferopol, and then an 8:15 bus – but not my 8:05 bus.  Egads.  Asked a few people, I think they told me to wait and it would show up, and sure enough, at 8:02 it did.  Good – wasn’t looking forward to renegotiating my ticket or having to take a taxi to Simferopol.

That ride took 2 hours.  Uneventful, except that the bus didn’t stop at the Simferopol bus station, it blew right by (I didn’t even notice) and next thing I knew we were at the train station.  I asked ‘what about the bus station’ and the driver said we already passed it.  Torture.  I got off and looked for a way to get back to the bus station.  A local told me that a bus just pulling in was going there – bingo.  Got on…paid…and a guy in a front seat spoke to me in English.  Turned out he’s a German guy, I believe a musician, who used to tour with Wu Tang Clan.  Random.  He was in Simferopol to look up a local girl he knew, somehow.  Sounded very dodgy, but fun.  Outgoing guy – spoke zero Russian or Ukrainian, couldn’t read Cyrilic, but he tried to talk with the locals (particularly the cute girls) and I had a lot of respect for his chutzpah.

I wasn’t pleased about the bus situation, though.  I’d already taken one bus…now I was on a second…and hopefully, I’d get to the third and final bus, to Odessa, soon.  To make matters worse, I was coming to understand (from reading the tiny letters on my ticket and from looking at bus signs) that it was actually possible to take a single bus from Yalta to Odesa, and not have to switch, as I was doing, in Simferopol.  In fact, when I reached the Simferopol bus station, finally, and got on my bus to Odessa, the sign said ‘Yalta-Odesa.’  Hmmm.  I felt like a real idiot…I could have left Yalta an hour later and avoided the entire bus-switching mess.  On the other hand, it was a fairly interesting mini-adventure/ordeal, and it’s not like I’m able to have in-depth discussions with ticket agents about what is and isn’t possible…and certainly the hotel staff around here are not volunteering to help with things like this.  So I didn’t kick myself too much, I laughed it off and got on the bus to Odesa.  My bigger concern was trying to get some sleep on a crowded overnighter, and that proved to be a valid concern.

Long night…stopped a few times for petrol and pit stops.  In one WC, the tank was so full of urine it could have been classified as a small sea.  Reminded me of Indian WCs.  Wonderful memories, I assure you.  Managed to sleep for about 3 hours, hard – woke up feeling alright.  Finally got to Odessa after 11 hours…slightly amazed, after all this time traveling, that I pulled this little trip off without a major hitch.

As I collected my bags from the back of the bus, I saw a bus come in behind us from Chisinau, Moldova.  Now that’s a backwater…there are truly always other roads to investigate.

Got to the Passazh Hotel, where I’d made a booking before leaving Odesa a week ago.  This place is the epitome of faded Soviet (or even pre-Soviet Russian) grandeur.  Slowly falling apart, but still classic.  The hotel has no hot water…the toilets are very creaky…but the rooms are sizeable and it’ll do for a night.  As I checked in the receptionist read my surname and giggled.  I said ‘elephant.’  She laughed and said ‘da.’  ‘Slon’ in Russian  is ‘elephant’ and I don’t mind that nickname at all.

I’m getting on a ferry to Istanbul tomorrow (Saturday) night.  The journey takes 36 hours, I reach Istanbul early Monday morning.  I’m looking forward to coming into Istanbul by sea, the view is supposed to be stupendous, you go down the Bosporus and see the Golden Horn before landing.  And I’m looking forward to getting back to more exotic lands and customs – after 4 months in the FSU (plus Mongolia, a cousin of those lands), I’m ready for a change.  I’ve enjoyed Ukraine and found it more appealing than I did Russia, in most ways – less crass, better value, and a bit more open-minded.  I’ve learned a lot about how they’re struggling with their national identity, and the best path forward for the country – not an easy choice, given their legacy and their neighborhood.  In fact, during these past 4 months I’ve learned a great deal about a part of the world we don’t touch on much in Western schools – I feel a lot more able to understand their geopolitical concerns, as well as their everyday challenges.

Talk about real-time, on-the-ground education – I think that over the past 2.5 or so years I’ve been on the road, I’ve learned as much or more than I did in 4 years of college…and the price tag (per annum, considering inflation and current costs of education) is about the same.  I kind of wish I took a year off before, or during college, and did something like this.  But it isn’t too late…unless, of course, the next Great Depression is just around the corner.  I’m optimistic that it isn’t – keep the faith, dear readers.  Over and out.