Wanderlust Heaven!

I’m in Odesa.  It’s the 7^th anniversary of the 9-11 terrorist attacks – they seem like yesterday, but also a lifetime ago.  I woke up today with a nasty thought – what if, sometime in the next two months, we ‘receive’ another video clip from Osama bin Ladin and crew threatening the USA/the West?  I recall that days before the 2004 elections, that happened, and probably benefited the Republicans.  My hypothesis is that al-Qaeda likes having the GOP in power, they are easy to goad and predict, and have helped recruit countless drones to their cause.  Will we be watching another bin Ladin clip on or around November 1^st this year…and will it again frighten us into making a reflexive choice?

I’ve been following the race pretty closely, almost obsessively.  It doesn’t help that I can surf the web on my handheld…for a person who’s not working, I probably come across like a Crackberry fiend, at least to the locals.

Speaking of home – in Korzo pub a few days ago, in Lviv, I noticed in the menu a listing for ‘chicken wings from Buffalo.’  I had to try those – and got pretty much standard grade barbecued chicken wings, no hot sauce, no bleu cheese, no celery.  Is there a TGI Friday’s in Istanbul?

At least I was comforted while eating my faux Buffalo wings by the sound of some guys speaking American/English.  You know, sometimes it’s better to be in a place where you don’t understand anyone around you, no one knows who you are, and you have to make do – the anti-Cheers, right?  On this night, as I sat at the bar eating wings, I was treated to an hourlong shpiel on replacing car windows, on filing taxes, and the obese guy in the group harangued an off-duty waitress who was there seeing her mates, telling her she shouldn’t show up on a night off.  How fucking presumptuous, and rude…it’s not only George W. Bush who’s working hard to ensure that Americans are detested around the world, we’ve also succeeded in exporting legions of obese businessmen who are helping spread the word far and wide.  How depressing.

I was perhaps in a crap mood because my hamstring was still killing me from the Budapest Nike ‘Human Race.’  Curse Nike…they got back at me because I wear New Balance shoes, and have for many years.  Or maybe I just didn’t stretch enough before the race, I just did my usual 5 minutes.  Or maybe I’m getting old and shouldn’t just assume I can run 2-3 times as far on a given day as I do during an average workout.  Or maybe I wish Obama were up by 10 points right now, instead of being even or worse.

Exchanged emails with Rory and Anne, who just moved from Ulaan Bataar to Shanghai.  I mentioned them during one of my Mongolia postings, they’ve lived in over 100 countries and aren’t slowing their pace.  Nice couple – but Rory did warn me that Ukraine was dangerous and that I shouldn’t bother visiting, and that advice was completely wrong.  Granted, he was trying to steer me into a visit to their farm in Bulgaria…but still, my one data point on them was their Ukraine coverage and this was way off.  I should let them know at some point that we have wildly different perceptions of this country…

I saw on BBC News that Yemen is now showing advertisements for tourism.  That may be premature – I’m sure there’s an incredible amount to see there, the place is rich in history, but (Rory also told me this, and I tend to believe him here) you have a decent shot at getting abducted in Yemen and that might ruin an otherwise good holiday.

The US$ is finally moving up a bit here, the moneychangers are offering around 4.8 Ukrainian hryvnia per dollar, up from 4.6 or 4.7.  Yeah, baby.  Meanwhile, the U.S. government is seizing Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac – probably a good move, but it effectively doubles the total U.S. debt load to about $10 trillion.  Hey, what’s the diff between 5 and 10 trill, anyway?  How the bejesus did things get to this point?  Why aren’t we electing economists to run the show till the ship gets righted??

Bert in Budapest turned me on – sort of – to some of his latest literary fixations, including William Reich and Wallace Wattles.  The latter wrote ‘The Science of Getting Rich,’ which Bert briefly excerpted for me.  In a nutshell, it’s not a book about investing, it’s more of a sociological/environmental screed in which Wattles lays out his thesis and principles for making it big:

-the world consists of unseen fabric or tissue (‘Original Substance’), which responds to our actions and emotions – everything we think and do has consequences

-so we’d better be honest and live our lives mindfully, and with joy (minimize negative thinking)

-we should also be gracious at all times, to all people

Pretty simple stuff, and compelling as well.  I have the PDF form of the book and will try to read it through soon – but anyway for now I’m trying to keep the principles of mindfulness, joy/positive thinking, and gratitude in front of me.  You know me – those are difficult enough!

On that point, a negative thought.  Watched Sarah Palin’s VP acceptance speech in St. Paul on television – certainly a good first showing (will there ever be a follow-up?), she seems to have energized the lunatic right-wing base of the party.  But…this was a great speech?  One, her voice is whiny and schoolmarmish – I wouldn’t want to hear that voice often.  Second, having watched the occasional 15 minutes of the British Parliament’s ‘Question Hour’ with the Prime Minister, in which the Opposition excoriates the PM while he tries to defend himself/the government, has been enough to instruct me in what constitutes a capable speaker and what does not.  And Sarah Palin would look like a dilettante in Westminster, I’m sure.  Her speech was good if your expectation was that she’d come out stuttering, or completely flat.  But Winston Churchill she is not.

Finished up in Lviv and caught a bus to the small city of Kamyanets-Podilslky, to the southeast.  This place is one of the more impressive sights in Ukraine, the old city is a ‘rock-island’ surrounded on all sides by a deep river canyon.  The odd path of the river encircles the old city and makes it a truly dramatic view.

Here’s what the old city and the canyon look like:

It strikes me that the only real way to convey the beauty of this place would be from an aerial photo.  Oh well.  I seem to recall that Bern had some similar vistas, but not quite this wild and striking.  Any readers know of a place that has similar features?

Checked into my hotel, Kseniya, near the old city’s impressive fortress.  The hotel seems mostly geared towards weddings and parties, didn’t speak much English, but we muddled through.  I had asked for a basic room – they tried to upsell me to a larger/more pricey room, but I held firm (played dumb) and they gave in.

Hadn’t eaten all day, so found a café right near the fortress and tucked in.  Ordered obligatory beers, and some shashlyk.  The waitress giggled at my Ukrainian.  I like giggling.

Took a long nap after my late lunch, these long bus/train rides take a lot out of you.  Was too weak to go for a run, and besides, my hamstring was still sore.  Ugh.

My guidebook recommended a pub in the old city, I went there and it was pleasant enough.  Pretty quite for a Friday night, but I was in a mellow mood and was happy to just kick back.  There was a TV showing music videos…one came on with the ubiquitous Enya, singing to a Lord of the Rings montage.  Didn’t show she had anything to do with those films.  Meanwhile, a few girls were sitting upstairs, now and then one would descend to use the toilet and then spend 10 minutes adjusting her hair in the hallway mirror.  Women here are incredibly appearance-conscious – not that they always make sane apparel choices, but I can appreciate the dedication.  Of course, when their looks fade, you probably don’t want to be around them…

Walked back to the hotel around midnight.  There was some music coming from the fortress.  Was there a private party inside?  Or were the guards just amusing themselves?  An eternal mystery…

Next morning, walked a while to the bus station to get a ticket for Odesa on Sunday.  Language torture, despite my preparations, I had written down exactly what I wanted…but the ticket lady kept saying ‘tomorrow’ with an inflection I couldn’t understand.  Eventually I got it – I had to return the next day (Sunday, when I wanted to travel) to get the ticket for that same evening.  Annoying – you’d think with computers, you could just make the booking whenever you wanted.  I got the time of the bus and made a note to return the next morning.  Oh well – it’s not like I have 17 other things I have to do.

The state telecom carrier – UkrTelecom – office in Kamyanets-Podilsky had an Internet café, went there with my laptop to plow through some emails, etc.  I bought an access card, like the one I bought in Kyiv, and like the network in Kyiv, in Express Hotel, the connection speeds were breathtaking.  Downloaded a brace of podcasts in under a minute, updated my anti-virus definitions, downloaded a bunch of emails with attachments.  This crap really backs up and I find I need to get on wireless at least once weekly to clear everything.

After that, did some sight-seeing around the old city, which is really a gem.  Lots of classic houses and streets – there’s an old Armenian Quarter, an old Polish town square, and so on.  I had never heard of this city before coming to Ukraine, but was happy to have checked it out.

Had lunch at the pub where I’d spent the previous night.  The waitress brought over a Lvivskie beer without my needing to ask.  Cool.  Had some borsch and salad, then a bit more sight-seeing.  There’s a picture gallery on the Armenian Square, with a sculpture of an old monk carrying a seemingly-innocuous basket.  But the sculpture pivots, and then you can see that in the basket is a naked woman.  Naughty, naughty monk.

Lots of weekend weddings in Kamyanets-Podilsky.  Big hair, huge limos, lots of flowers.  They basically took over the old town, but I was happy to watch the proceedings and fanfare – I had no trouble getting around and could still get into the food and drink establishments.  As I watched all the preening, however, I was overcome by the thought that this sort of crass exhibitionism and extravagance isn’t the way to immortality, in a century everyone here will be forgotten (myself included).  It’s perfectly fine to be joyous and to let yourself go on your wedding day, sure…but heed the poem ‘Ozymandias’ and know that if you want to be remembered, go out and create something, or solve a global problem – that’s a much better way to achieve a sort of immortality than riding in a huge limo on Saturday afternoon.  But I suppose that 99% of people don’t think beyond tomorrow, and that having a blowout today is really what they live for.  And they might not be wrong…

Checked out the old fortress – ramshackle, but impressive.  As I walked around I listened to my iPod, there were a few podcasts I had downloaded that I was plowing through.  One, from NOW on PBS, concerned affirmative action, and covered a fellow who runs a political action group that’s trying to get referendum on state ballots to end affirmative action.  Turns out he’s a registered lobbylist, and gets large donations from the construction industry to fight affirmative action.  Hmm.  Why do you think the construction industry doesn’t want African-Americans to get into good schools or get good jobs?  As I wrote last week, I really don’t subscribe to overarching conspiracy theories around incidents like 9-11, the Kennedy assassination, etc.  But I do believe that lobbying dollars corrode the ethics of Washington, to the extent that there were any in the first place, and I applaud any journalists out there digging this shit up and exposing it to sunlight.  Talk about fighting the good fight.

I’d actually be happy replacing race-based affirmative action with economic means-testing.  If you come from a poor family, you get extra consideration for university and for jobs.  In theory this type of system shouldn’t be any more difficult to implement…I just worry that it too would subsequently get gutted and we’d wind up with colleges with a handful of African-Americans and that a (more) permanent underclass of Americans would be the consequence.

I don’t know what the Bush Administration has done in this area.  His choice of right-wing Justices for the Supreme Court won’t help, that’s for sure.  And that’s probably where this fight will eventually go, or more accurately, return.

The best thing about the Bush Administration?  Things can only get better.  They’ve only succeeded in turning about 60% of the world against us – the next Pres. might be able to cut that in half (Obama would do much better than that).

Listened to my new favorite song, ‘It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference,’ an oldie by Todd Rundgren, as I walked back to the hotel.  Another fixation lately:  Lynn Miles and her 1996 album ‘Slightly Haunted.’  She’s a Canadian folk singer whom I saw perform on a random weekday night at the Bottom Line in Greenwich Village, NYC around 1996 or so.  Hadn’t heard of her, was just walking around the Village, and felt like hearing some live music.  Was so impressed that I bought her CD right there, and loved it.  You never know what’s around the next corner in life – that’s the beauty of it.  On any given Wednesday night, there are incredible unknown bands playing in your town, you just need to go see them.  Meanwhile, there are loads of well-publicized acts that have half the talent, but more presence, who grab the headlines and recording contracts.  Amy Winehouse, for example – she certainly is talented and has a good voice, but in my opinion Lynn Miles blows her away and I imagine few of you have heard of her.  I need to get on iTunes and see what else she’s selling these days – I suggest you do as well.  Highly recommended.

Saturday night in Kamyanets-Podilsky.  Could be the title of a Lynn Miles song – but probably not.  Not much going on – walked into the ‘new city,’ found a cheesy basement pub where they had one of those electronic music setups with a vocalist frontman, who sang along with the machine.  Charming.  Actually, not that bad.  And he did Elton John’s ‘Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word.’  It’s funny when these guys sing in English, they sound like natives…even though they can hardly say ‘hello’ when away from the machine.  I love it.

Got my Odesa bus ticket the next morning. I half-feared they’d tell me to come back that afternoon, but no problem.  Went back to the hotel and packed up.  Walked to the Internet café and did a few things on the godlike superfast hookup.  If I had a connection this fast everyday, everywhere, I could probably save an hour a day.  Oh well.

Had a beer and a huge shashlyk (actually, more like a massive pork chop) at the café near the fortress, Pid Bramoyu.  Didn’t see the giggling waitress, unfortunately.  Did I mention I like giggling?

Back at the hotel, got my pack, and caught a taxi to the bus station.  I wonder what the receptionists at Kseniya Hotel thought of me, they really seem to find an English speaker exotic…and I did feel that I was very much off the beaten path while in this town.  Not that it got me laid – but hey.

Waited at the bus station, prayed for a large bus with real seats and a degree of comfort.  Watched a guy run off another bus, turn and vomit – mostly onto the ground, but he sprayed a couple women waiting on the platform.  They took it surprisingly well – they had some wet-wipes and proceeded to use a ton of those to clean off their legs.  Fairly horrific, to just be standing there waiting for your bus when some fellow runs over and pukes on you.  Lesson:  always carry some wet-wipes.

The bus was fine, and the seat next to me was empty for the entire ride.  Awesome.  Surfed the web on my Treo, heard that Tom Brady, the Patriots’ (football) quarterback injured his knee in the first quarter of the opening game.  Torture.  What will this season look like now?

The ride was about 12 hours.  Dozed on and off…listened to music, looked out the window.  Ukraine is a fertile, flat country and sometimes it appears to be one giant farm.  Thought about the ease of transport in our world – rarely have I had a truly difficult time getting from one place to another, particularly within a country.  A bus from Lviv to Kamyanets-Podilsky?  Two per day.  From K-P to Odessa?  Two per day.  The times aren’t always convenient, and the rides can be long, but if you plan it right you can see a lot fairly quickly.  I often rail against population growth, but sufficient human scale does have its advantages…

There was a screen in the bus and they played some DVDs, including one, ‘Mongol,’ which appeared to show the life and times of one Chinggis Khan.  It was all in Russian, so I had no idea what they were talking about, but the incidents seemed to jibe with what I’d read of the man.

When that movie ended, I looked at a map of the country, and was briefly concerned that we’d be short-cutting through the (independent country of) Moldova.  I’d heard that you need a visa for Moldova, and that they weren’t cool even if you were just passing through.  I asked the conductor ‘Moldova? Ya nye Moldova viza.’  He smiled and laughed and said ‘Nye Moldova.’  Whew.  Should have checked that when I bought my ticket…but the language challenge is hard enough, sometimes I forget to ask that critical final question.  Gotta be more of a pest, despite it not really being my nature…

Got to the Odesa bus station.  It was only 5:30 a.m.  My hotel, Richelieu, would probably be shut, or my room not ready, for a few hours, so decided to drink some coffee and kick back at the station.  Lots of unsavory characters sleeping on the chairs…some homely cats roamed the floors.  But it was dark outside, and I was better off where I was.  The monsters come out at night, in the dark – rip-off cabbies, touts, real thieves – and they’re best avoided.  The sun came up around 6:30 or so, but I stuck around till around 8, observing life inside the bus station.

A decrepit-looking guy was sleeping across a few seats to my left.  A woman sweeping the floor cleaned our area, and gently moved his plastic bag of belongings while she swept the area under his seats, then replaced the bag.  I could tell she had a kind heart, and was surprisingly unjaded by her work.  A half-hour later, some jerk came over with a cop and made the fellow sit up.  He later laid down again, and they eventually threw him out of the station.  Very callow.  Reminded me of the cop training a hose on a bum picking through the trash at a train station in Moscow.  Being a bum in the FSU is probably a lot like being in hell.

Listened to Lynn Miles for a while, then to Rosa Passos – she’s a bossa nova singer from Brazil, very relaxed stuff.  Then I was ready to leave the bus station and confront Odesa on my own terms.

Had trouble finding a reasonably-priced cab, even in the daylight.  I think the problem is that 1) they have you by the balls, particularly if you have luggage, and 2) in the FSU, every car is a potential taxi, so the competition is fierce and volumes are depressed.  In a price-sensitive market, the cabbies would just lower their prices and attract volume…and/or consider adding a meter, which none of the taxis here seem to have.  But they seem unable/unwilling to lower their prices to match those of the random car serving as taxi – probably because they have to pay the cab owner a set price each day.  So what they appear to do is to wait for the big-ticket rides, from bus/train/airport to the city center, and vice-versa.  They go for broke and target a small population – much like the private medical sector does in Hong Kong.  You can get nearly free medical care in HKG, if you go to public hospitals/clinics, but the wait is forever and busy professionals cave in and go to private doctors who charge a fortune.  You’re reimbursed by your insurance company, so you don’t really care, and the private doctors make a good living seeing relatively few patients but overcharging them.  At least that’s how I see it.

Hotel Richelieu turned out to be terrific, albeit a bit pricier than new friend Jeff had mentioned.  It’s in the courtyard of Odesa’s main synagogue – was glad to see that Jews here wear yarmulkas and Star of Davids.  You probably wouldn’t have seen that years ago…I guess the pogroms are over.

My room was small, but had plenty of hooks for clothes, and even a fan, something I hadn’t yet seen in Ukraine.  I’d probably be able to sleep here without sweating or getting attacked by insects…

Saw the major sights in town.  The Potemkin Steps, made famous by Sergei Eisenstein’s ‘Battleship Potemkin.’  Pretty cool.  The steps and the view to the harbor from the steps:

Walked around the harbor checking out the yachts.  Saw one from Comores, which I visited on a memorable junket in 1998.  Saw one from Panama too.  They really get around.

Bought a ferry ticket to Istanbul.  Wanted to go from Sevastopol, or Yalta, but was told that there are only Odesa-Istanbul ferries.  That was news to me, I’d heard otherwise – yet another Lonely Planet inaccuracy.  Oh well, I’d have to return to Odesa after visiting Crimea – somewhat of a pain, but not a deal-breaker.  I wanted to traverse the Black Sea by ship, so I’d do it this way.  The ticket was about US$190, not that bad, but I’ll have to share a cabin with three random guys.  Hopefully they’re Turkish opium dealers or something like that.  We’ll see.

Isaac Babel, the writer, came from Odesa.  He helped form the image of Odesa (Odessa in Russian) as a city whose citizens were witty and worldly, and often Jewish.  The Jewish population is small these days, but it’s here and I think the image of the city as the FSU’s most cosmopolitan city persists.

And Catherine the Great played a major role in the development of Odesa, she’s a controversial but largely beloved figure here:

Odesa seems quite pro-Russian, they speak mostly Russian here.  I know more Russian than Ukrainian so that’s OK with me.  But I sense that they don’t love Yankees that much around here…and friend Sarmat (in Moscow) told me that in Crimea I should pose as a Canadian.  I can do a decent New Zealand accent and might try that instead.

I also get the sense that they’re still pissed off that Khrushchev gave Crimea to Ukraine.  Russia still has its Black Sea Fleet in Sevastopol – I’ll see it soon enough – but the lease ends in 2017 and that’s already provoking some trouble between the two nations.  Ukraine really is an odd country – unsure of its identity, torn between history and future, stuck between the East and the West.  I don’t have a lot of advice, or even a strong point of view, to offer the locals I talk to.  Ukrainians (a diverse lot, to be sure) need to make up their own minds.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they wound up leaning East…but if I had to put money on it, I suspect the lure of Western capital and sophistication will eventually attract them.  No matter what, though, they’ll need to remain cognizant of their neighborhood.

This city is a bit like Manila, in that there seems to be a lot going on in the background.  Odesa has a lot of mafia and an edgy feel to it.  You don’t feel threatened, or in danger, but if you went looking for trouble you wouldn’t need to look for long.  So I didn’t.

Did a fair amount of running in a park near the hotel.  My hamstring seems better, and I want to get back to business.  Eventually I want to ramp up my workouts and get above a half-hour.  Heard that Japanese novelist Murakami wrote a book about how running helps his thinking and writing – he’s a great writer and I’d love to get my hands on his book.

Am starting to get tired of the white trash in the FSU.  Lots of shirtless guys walking around the parks – and some on buses and trams.  Lots of crass displays, you see Hummer limos and lots of god chains round guys’ necks.  Didn’t this stuff go out in America in 1978??  Except the Hummers, of course…

I do have to say that Odesa probably has the best-looking white women I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something.  Ukraine in general has a rep for having hot women, and it’s deserved.  Sure, there are plenty of trolls and babushkas, and you do wonder how this cutie eventually morphs into that babushka, but you put the thought out of your mind and smile.  Went into a bar called Captain Morgans my first night in Odesa and sat at the bar, it was a lively place with a DJ.  A couple cute blondes (one was stunning) were across the way, chatting.  I thought about sending over some drinks, and probably would have if I had a wingman with me.  This would be a great place to have a wingman – I get the sense the solo traveler archetype isn’t one they particularly favor.  Oh well – I’ll look around for a drinking buddy and come back to Captain Morgans.  I wonder if they know how to make a Captain and Coke?

Lots of people – mostly men – in the FSU are wearing some sort of arm or hand cast, and/or sling.  Drunken street/bar fights?  Domestic violence?  Car accidents?

Bought a train ticket to Simferapol, the Crimean capital, for Thursday night.  Easy enough.

Went out to famous Arkadia Beach to the southwest of the city.  Very Russian-style beach, accordion players, people walking around with beers, lots of cheesy kiddie rides, and standing sunbathers.  I didn’t swim – I’d heard the water was foul, despite city government proclamations that the water is safe.  Too bad – hadn’t seen the ocean in months, and wanted to get wet.  But  I just walked around and observed life here.

Arkadia in the summer goes off every night – there are two huge clubs on the beach, Itaka and Ibiza, and it’s reminiscent of Ibiza in Spain.  I arrived in Odesa a bit too late in the year, and during the middle of the week, but might try on my return here to do a Friday night in Arkadia before they shutter the clubs.  We’ll see.

Had lunch at Tbilisi, a Georgian place on the promenade.  Had kachapuri, Georgian pizza – not bad, a bit too dry for my taste though.  Preferred the Georgian food I’d had in Kyiv, dolmas and cheese.  Will keep trying this stuff.

Deep Purple is coming to Odesa soon.  You really know when you’re nearing the bottom when you’re playing Odesa, methinks.  Although the geezers in Deep Purple still get laid more than I do, I’m sure…

Saw a wedding shop sign that featured Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.  I had to laugh.

Went for a long run, twice around the big park.  At one point I passed another runner, who then picked up his pace to match mine.  We went on like this for a while – I found it annoying for a couple reasons, one because I felt I was being watched, two because it was yet more evidence that men are idiots and slaves to their macho instincts.  This guy might have been running for an hour, me for 10 minutes, neither of us had the other’s data – but for some reason he couldn’t just let me pass him?  Wouldn’t it have been easier to let me go and then concentrate on his own running?  Is machoism and pride the doom of mankind?  I admit that sometimes these instincts drive us to greater heights…but to me it proves we’re just instinctual animals, in the end, and that will quite possibly bring us down.

Needless to say, I was pretty fresh and eventually passed him – not sure if he slowed down or if I sped up, it wasn’t a conscious decision.  Of course, with me it wasn’t a matter of being macho – I only looked back about 6 times to make sure he was well behind me.

Went out that night for dinner and a few beers.  Mick O’Neills is the long-standing expat hangout, a decent place to sit and observe.  There’s also a place called ‘Friends and Beer,’ a name I quite like.  Went there and had a big plate of US-style starters with some Ukrainian beer.  Walked around afterward to digest the food, I was stuffed.  Looked in Captain Morgans but it wasn’t hopping, plus I was tired from the long run.  Went back to the hotel and dug into my current book, ‘Everything is Illuminated’ by Jonathan Safran Foer, which was starting to get good.

Did laundry the next morning.  Wasn’t sure how it worked at the hotel, but the guy at reception opened a door and there was a washing machine.  Good.  The machine washes a load in 15 minutes, I think that’s a world record (it’s environmentally-friendly, in any case).  Anyway, the clothes seemed clean when I took them out.  Got everything washed in a half-hour, then hung ‘em to dry.  Easy enough, and free as well.  I wish every hotel had this sort of setup.

Noticed a travel agency near my hotel, with an English sign.  Went in and asked them about ferries to Istanbul.  They told me the only option was from Odesa, which made me feel better – since I’d bought my ticket, I’d worried that there were in fact boats from Crimea.  The travel agency rep told me that these were cargo ships, didn’t have regular departures, and weren’t dependable for passengers.  Ok, now I didn’t feel like a loser for having believed the earlier info.

Had lunch at the kosher restaurant in front of my hotel.  I guess it’s run by/affiliated with the synagogue.  Had some nice mushroom noodle soup, and a cauliflower salad, and felt I was giving to my people.  Or something like that.  You know what I mean.

I didn’t have many plans for the day, which was a good thing because I was getting heavily into the Foer book.  I spent most of the day reading it – I blew off my run (leg was sore anyway), didn’t go to the beach, had a quick dinner and drink, then back to the book.  I read until nearly 2 a.m. and finally finished it.  Wow.  The gist is that an American Jew travels to Ukraine to find a woman who saved his grandfather there from the Nazis.  He carries with him a photo of this woman and his grandfather.  He hires an agency in Odesa for transport to the lost village, and for translation – a Ukrainian man named Alex and Alex’s grandfather accompany him and serve these roles.  What they find and learn stuns them all.  I haven’t read many books that have such a brilliant mix of tragedy and comedy – there are parts of the book that are searing, and other parts that are hilarious.  I know it doesn’t sound appropriate, but Foer pulls it off perfectly.  One of the best books I’ve read, certainly top ten.  Highly recommended.

I head to Simferapol tonight, on an overnight train.  Will spend about a week in Crimea, then will return to graceful Odesa for a night or two before catching my ferry to Istanbul.  Am already making some plans to see people in that city – a former Darden classmate, a former colleague, and a friend of a friend.  Should be good fun.

Closing thought about politics and life – I opened this entry with a political musing so might as well close with one:  if Barack Obama had teenage daughters, and one of them was pregnant with a love child (or ‘out-of-wedlock,’ choose your own terminology), do you think he’d be lauded for having a normal family with ‘normal challenges?’  I don’t think so.  Over and out.

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Spent a half-day in Lviv getting ready to head to Budapest.  It was an achingly beautiful early autumn day and as usual I was running around doing things.  Looked for a gift for Bert and Vjera, whom I’d be visiting in Budapest.  Lviv has a string of bookshops in the center of town – I like places where you can find books and the people actually read.  Central Asia had been a bit of a wasteland in that regard.

Looked for a restaurant I’d heard was good.  A fellow I asked told me – then asked me if I was Polish.  Second person who thought that – the other was a guy I asked for directions to the cemetery I visited last week.  That guy, Viktor, told me he spent a year in Chicago – every English sentence he uttered was punctuated with ‘bro.’  Charming.

Found the resto, Amadeus, and inhaled a huge ‘gypsy shashlyk’ which was really just a few well-grilled chunks of meat with some potatos and sauce.  Perhaps the best shashlyk ever, although those two skewers in Bishkek still come to mind…

Got on the train to Budapest that night.  Was going to visit fraternity brother Bert, who relocated from New York City to Budapest four months ago.  He had sent me an email around that time, in typically cryptic style – my understanding is that he had met a Hungarian woman in NYC and went back to Budapest with her.  Good for him…Bert has spent the past 20 years, since graduating from college, dealing with some health issues, and he’d been in NYC for the past 15 or so.  He’s great musician and music is part of his essence…perhaps a change of scenery plus his music would be what he needed to recover and regain his previously awesome joie de vivre.  But I really had no idea; since college I had only spent a few days hanging out with him, this trip to Budapest would be the most time we’d ever spent together.  Homicide was not out of the question…

I shared a train compartment with two spry Welsh, Reese and Donna, on their way to Romania to do some volunteering.  They shared their beer with me – I vowed to pay it forward on my next train trip.  We eventually passed out – then were awoken by border guards who wanted our passports.  At least the people I dealt with during the ride were pleasant – the ‘train lady’ was positively jolly, a real rarity, and even the Hungarian border guard was amused by my fat passport.

But a long night nonetheless…they had to change the wheels as well as doing the border checks.  The Welsh got off before I did…I finally roused myself and we pulled into Budapest an hour or so late.

As I disembarked I realized this was my first cross-border train ride since I’d left Mongolia for Russia in late June.  That was an epic journey, and involved visa checks and all that – this time no visas required, and in general it felt pretty relaxed.  Good to be traveling overland again – flights are pricey these days, and dealing with crappy airports isn’t much fun.

Bert and Vjera, along with her nephew, met me at Keleti Station.  Bert looked pretty good – last time I’d seen him he’d been surprisingly heavy, mostly from various ‘experiments’ he’d been conducting to try to cure his condition.  I still had to needle him about being fat, but I mostly pulled my punches.

Dropped my stuff off at Vjera’s flat, an attractive space which is painstakingly decorated.  She’s a translator and has a nice lifestyle – has time for yoga and for hanging out with Bert.  He moved in there when he came to Budapest – seems to be working out pretty well so far.

We went out to Magrit Island to walk around and let Vjera’s nephew get some air.  We were eventually to meet his mother, Vjera’s sister, there.  To amuse the little guy (and Bert?) we rented a cycle-type vehicle, which could seat four, and took off around the park.  The nephew steered – with constant assistance from me – I pedaled in the front, Bert in the rear.  A lot of fun – dangerous at times, which was an essential aspect of the amusement.  I noticed that a lot of women, many cute, were looking at us and smiling (usually).  Interpretation:  a man (or men) accompanying a little kid passes the litmus test of paternalism – they’ve given in and are thus acceptable.  Whereas my usual practice of sitting solo at a bar is not.  Got it.

At one point Bert felt his back pocket, to check his wallet, which was no longer there.  Uh-oh.  We all fanned out to look for it – but had no idea where it might be.  Did it get lifted on the tram to the island?  We were targeted as soon as we walked away from the ATM we hit right before taking the tram?  Did it just fall out during a bump on the cycle ride?  Errah…

We looked all round the park – no luck.  Bert was philosophical about the loss – didn’t get too upset, not much angst.  We eventually met up with Vjera’s sister Anna, and walked around with her for a while before returning to the flat to call the credit card company and cancel the lost/stolen card.  Bert checked his online account, and found that someone had already withdrawn nearly US$4,000 from his bank/debit card.  Shit.  The transaction was linked to something called ‘Lixus Budapest,’ which Vjera looked into and discovered was a casino.  Hmmm.  Further Vjera calls to Lixus itself found that the transaction had taken place at one of its two casinos in town – and that apparently the card was used as a debit card and that only a (fake) signature, not a PIN, was required.  Incredible – first, that the miscreant moved so fast, second that no PIN was required.  That set in motion a series of phone calls to Bert’s bank – after much explanation the bank is doing an investigation but it looks like Bert will eventually prevail and get his money refunded by the bank.  Meanwhile, the casino operation sounds very dodgy and there must be a corrupt cashier/manager there who does this all the time…

Had dinner and drinks – Bert was still holding up well, despite the theft of a significant portion of his bank holdings.  And overall, today’s events aside, he seemed heartier than he’d been when I’d seen him in NYC over the past few years.  I think his mind and sense of humor haven’t missed a beat – he’s as perverse as ever, and can’t resist torturing those around him. I don’t know how Vjera handles it, he must be unlike anyone she’s ever met – he’s certainly unlike anyone I’ve ever met…

So if Bert can get his body back in good working order, and keeps playing music, he could become an ubermensch within the next, say, 2-3 years.  Good to see that this may come to pass, Bert’s been in the tunnel for a long long time.

We went to the local police station to report the theft (we tried to do so in the park but the station there isn’t equipped for that).  Waited a while there – a couple was in there before us, with a baby, to report some crime, and it turned out that the woman was actually wanted for a crime herself.  Talk about dim.  We finally got in there and Vjera did all the talking.  Bert and I stared at a poster on the wall – ‘Aliens vs. Predators 2’ – a huge poster which Bert and I posited was the Budapest police’s latest success; they brought both Predator and Alien to justice, so recovering Bert’s wallet would be easy, right?  We giggled perhaps a bit too much for a police station.

We could do no more on the wallet front, so Bert and I headed to the famed baths of Budapest.  There are lots of places, we started with the largest, Szecaenyi.  A bit hard to work out the procedures, but we eventually found ourselves in a warm bath.  We spent the next three hours moving between hot, warm and cold pools, inside and outside the building.  The pools outside were terrific, loads of cute locals frolicking around.  Very social scene.  Bert hadn’t yet been to one of these bathhouses so we were getting up to speed together.  Much better than the hammom I visited in Bukhara, which was really a cavern with water taps.  I prefer the hot and cold pools, much more refreshing.

Random bathhouse observations:

-There probably is an optimal algorithm for moving between different pools (and the sauna as well).  We tried all sorts of combinations – I liked very cold to very hot, that way the cold shielded you from the hot, at least for a few minutes.

-The water temps affect your organs – I felt incredibly hungry at several points, probably from the stomach expanding and contracting due to different temps.

-Besides moving between pools, there’s really nothing to do in there.  That’s precisely what I need, given my usual focus on doing tasks.  You just sit there and think, or talk, and stew.  Excellent, really.

Bert might have some other observations – I expect he’ll post a comment one of these days.  More on bathhouses and bathing a bit later in this entry.

We were starving after the baths, so found a Turkish place and inhaled a huge souvlaki plate apiece.  Then went with Vjera to hear some music in a university-type hall – decent rock band.  Had a couple Hungarian beers – not bad at all.  Walking home, Bert and I got a gyro – Budapest has more gyro places than I’d ever seen before.  A good preview for Turkey.

Vjera has a large set of Shakespeare books in Magyar (Hungarian).  Magyar is a weird language, it’s related to Finnish and unrelated to nearly anything else.  I didn’t even try to pick up more than 2-3 words while there…if I tried, I’d forget all the Ukrainian and Russian I’d already picked up.  I know the capacity constraints of my little brain…

Next day we all went to a fair in a park near the Danube, which is an impressive river.  I’d been to Budapest once before, more than 10 years ago, and had forgotten what a pleasant and attractive city Budapest is.  Good to be back.

No pics of our little gang – Bert is camera-shy.

After milling around the fair for a while, Bert and I peeled off and went to our second bathhouse, Gallert, which is next to a classic old hotel on the Buda side of the river.  Gallert is huge, larger than Szecaenyi, but is as a result pretty confusing and we spent a lot of time wandering around lost.  But it was a good session all the same – Gallert is probably the most ornate bathhouse in Budapest, and I’d seen pics of it in various magazines.  There’s one room with two pools, 36 and 38 degrees Celsius, and we spent a lot of time in pool 38.  This room is huge and is probably several hundred years old.  The Turks left some good stuff behind here…

Bert and I were becoming bathhouse aficionados, and planned at least one more stop before I left town.  The concept of an ‘Extreme Bathing Team’ came up – the idea of sitting around all day in a pool appealed greatly to both of us.  Note that there doesn’t seem to be any sort of homosexual aspect to these bathhouses, at least the ones we visited – I imagine there may be places dedicated to that sort of thing, although Eastern Europe doesn’t seem to yet be all that open to the alternative lifestyle.

Vjera, Anna and the nephew showed up outside Gallert right when Bert and I were checking out the outdoors pool there.  That was a bit funny – wasn’t sure if they wanted to join us, or watch us, or what.  We had agreed to meet around 7 p.m. to catch some music, back at the fair, so we were surprised by this rendezvous.

We wound up meeting just outside Gallert, and went back to the fair together.  Saw one of Vjera’s favorite local bands, Csik, fronted by a charismatic moustachoied fellow who survived an awful car accident a while back.  Great stuff  – the band had 3 violins/fiddles and a ‘eastern’ sound that is miles away from the latest western blather.

After that, had dinner at Cactus Juice, a fusion place with a vaguely Middle Eastern bent.  Stayed there for a while – Bert and I had a good talk about life and plans – not that either of us are particularly knowledgeable or skilled in those areas…

Next day, we had big plans.  First, lunch at Vjera’s parents’ place.  Huge meal – her mom is a great cook and she set out a fantastic spread of chicken, pork, mashed potatos, sweet cherries, cauliflower, and cheeses.  Bert and I didn’t hold back, much – but I had to be mindful of the second major plan for the day (more on that soon), so I only had 3 plates of food…

I started playing chess against the nephew, and tried my best not to checkmate him.  I once won, by accident, and redid that move to keep the game going.  Eventually Vjera’s dad stepped in – he’s an accomplished chess master and Bert has lost badly to him every time.  That tightened the game up right away.  Bert joined me, and we struggled to hold off the dad.  We did alright – mostly ran from his attacking pieces, but made a couple trades that reduced the overall power of both sides, and eventually the dad said that a conclusion was unlikely, the two sides were equal and weak.  So we agreed and I left the board feeling pretty good.  Of course, the dad would have crushed me if we’d had a normal game…still, I didn’t fold and that was heartening.

Second major task for that day:  a 10K run around Margit Island, part of Nike’s ‘Human Race,’ which is held in around 20 cities around the world and involves approximately a million runners, including, of course, Lance Armstrong.  We were joined by a friend of Vjear’s, and got to the starting point just before 5 p.m.  The run started – I hadn’t run any formal race in a couple years, so took it easy and paced myself.  Wasn’t sure how fast to take it early on, I just found a few runners who seemed like me, and stayed with them.  Got around the island once, it was two times around in total.  On the second loop my right hamstring really started bothering me – plus my left hip was sore – plus my stomach was stuffed from the huge meal.  Terrific.  My ego dictated that I finish the run…and I wanted a decent showing, given that I was theoretically in good shape and had been running semi-regularly.  My stamina was fine, at least.  I tucked in my chin and got going – and I plowed through the last few km.  I finished in 58 minutes for the 10K, which I later found out was really about 11K.  A bit worse than my standard 8-minute mile pace.  But good enough.

Really felt the pain that night.  Very humbling – one of these days I really need to turn on the juice and get this aging body in great shape.  Good thing my ego has remained in shape – i.e., small.

We just stayed in and had a light dinner prepared by Bert and Vjera.  Bert has developed deep skills in lassi- and smoothie-making – I had about 10 of these during my 5 days with them.  Vjera makes a great salad, sandwich, and much more.  I don’t think I’ve eaten such healthy food in a long time.

Played ‘Who Wantes to Be a Millionaire?’  I wasn’t impressive – but then again, I had some British television questions which were nearly unanswerable.  We teased Bert, who got one obscure question involved magpies – but who also got the question ‘how many years in a millennium?’  Hard one.  I think I prefer Trivial Pursuit – although there are annoying TV questions in there too.

Went to our third bathhouse the next day.  This place has high sulfur content, and radioactivity as well.  Not sure what that means, should read up on it sometime.  The furdo (bathhouse) is called Rudas and is right near Gallert.  Rudas was our favorite of the three we’d visited – the main chamber has nearly all the pools, the ceiling has some openings to let in a bit of sublight, and there are both freezing cold and super-hot (42 degree) pools – great temp spreads.  We festered in the mid-range pools, mostly, and fantasized about our ‘Extreme Bathing’ concept.  We agreed to start recruiting other members, starting with fraternity brother Tim in the States.  Living in Budapest…hanging out in the baths…having an inexpensive flat…lots of positives here.  Anyone who’s floundering in the west would do well to consider a move to Budapest or a place like it.

Saw the fattest Hungarian I’d seen yet – American-sized guy.  He waddled from pool to pool.  Another local insisted on diving into the pools, and warned others with an Indian-style puckering whistle – a sound often used in India to get the attention of waiters.  Annoying, really.

Rudas was excellent – we spent 3 or so hours there, which seemed to be the right amount of time to spend in a bathhouse.  Bert looked likely to continue this trend when I’d leave the city – good for him.  Between playing music and extreme bathing, he’d be feeding his body and soul and would possibly hasten his recovery.

Went with Vjera to a concert that night – there was a Jewish festival on in the city.  This was a Dutch Jewish klezmer group – not the super-ethnic klezmer stuff I’d heard before, much more folky.  Pretty good stuff.  Bert didn’t love it – he thought the bassist was a show-off, and the singer annoying – he mocked her occasional trill and hand movements.  Musicians are certainly critical of other musicians – no surprise there.

I was happy that Bert and I had gotten along so well, and had such good talks.  As I wrote earlier, his mind is as perverse and provocative as ever – he’s managed to shield it from the agonies his body has endured.  That alone gives me confidence that he’ll get all the way back.

He also makes me (and Vjera) laugh – his sense of humor is weird and not always easy to take, but it’s real.  At one point, mid-giggle, I realized that I need to spend more time around people who make me laugh, in any way.  Bert and I go back more than 20 years, so we have lots to reminisce about, but even a new friend would be fine in this regard.  And I realized that I’ve known very few women who have made me laugh – my Croatian girlfriend years ago had this ability, but I can’t recall any others who have.  Why?  Am I meeting the wrong women…or are women inherently more serious and uptight than men, perhaps because of socialization?  I can’t help but feel that the second reason prevails.  Reactions?

We called Tim that night, he was in New Hampshire.  We started the call with an appeal to join the Extreme Bathers Club – Tim might be in.  Bert told Tim, who’s at a life crossroads of sorts, that my travels have exceeded all my expectations and fantasies – that seemed to resonate with Tim.  Bert and I would love to see Tim chuck his American girlfriend (a long story) and come overseas to try something new.   We’ll keep goading him…

Watched some Democratic National Convention speeches on YouTube.  Glad speakers are attacking the GOP, in 2004 they held off and that proved foolish.  Was especially impressed by John Kerry’s speech – he remains a good speaker and obviously intelligent.  After watching his speech, I couldn’t help but (once more) feel angry about the knee-capping he got in 2004 from Bush & Co., that he would have made a good President, and that the U.S., because of political dirty-tricks like ‘swift-boating,’ is eating itself and bringing to power the meanest, not best, candidates.  American voters are about to choose again, and I fear they’ll make another mistake.

Got my mail from home, nearly four months’ worth.  Not much in there of note, except for a new credit card, and 3 IRS notices telling me that I owed about US$78.  Torture.  This is why I usually try to get my mail every 6 weeks…but given that I’ve been in some obscure countries, that wasn’t really feasible/cheap.  I called the IRS and dealt with this – they hadn’t taken any collection steps, which made sense given that I’d already paid over US$40,000 in taxes this cycle.  Sent a check and that was that.  Whenever I get my mail there’s one piece in there that serves to aggravate me – brings back memories of sitting at my work desk juggling a thousand annoying tasks.  But I’m not sure how to get around this, gotta stay on top of the minutiae of life.

Last day in Budapest.  Went with Bert and Vjera to the Castle Hill district, the oldest and most scenic.  Walked around listening to Bert’s faux description of Hungarian culture and history.  Very funny.  Felt some sadness that we’d soon part ways – I’d had a great 5 days with them, it felt in some ways like Bert and I were still back at Tufts, hanging out in the ‘cave’ in Zeta Psi, sharing observations on life.  We should have had a bath there, though…

Got ready to take a train back to Lviv.  Vjera went far beyond the call of duty –  she made me a large care package with two sandwiches, three beers, water, snacks, and fruit.  Incredible – she has an impressive maternal instinct, methinks.  They took me to Keleti Station, where I’d arrived days earlier.  The short trip felt symmetrical and that no loose ends remained, I was happy about that.  I promised to come visit again before long – and I have a feeling I might see them in Goa within the next year or two.  I hope so.

Got on the train.  Shared a cabin with two German lads who spoke zero English.  Not sure how they get by, even in Europe.  I had to help them fill out the Hungarian departure card.  I can’t remember ever meeting western Euros who spoke no English whatsoever.  I gave them one of my beers – they gave me a Lucky Strike.  I came to realize they were the German Beavis & Butthead – lots of dumb laughing and stumbling around, commenting on headsplitting music, etc.  Eventually they became annoying, but anyway I had a lot of reading to catch up on, Bert gave me ‘The Book of Fathers’ by Miklos Vamos, and Dad & Ellen had included in my mail package a few Sports Illustrateds and Boston Globe articles on the Celtics’ recent championship.  The final game, Game 6, was back in late June, I had watched it in Mongolia and memories of that morning came rushing back, felt so recent yet I’d been to many countries in the meantime.

As the train pulled out I stuck my heat out the window (just a little), and felt the wind rush by and the smell of the city and the fields reach me.  The essence of train travel – I could stand at a train window forever.

Read a few University of Virginia, Tufts University, and Darden B-School magazines that were in my mail.  Saw a great quote from President James Madison, a President evidently more wise than the current version:

“If tyranny and oppression come to this land, it will be in the guise of fighting a foreign enemy.”

Makes lots of sense to me.  Bert had tried to interest me in various conspiracy theories he’s researched, mostly around 9/11 but also other topics – including some House bills and Presidential acts which might be construed as giving one person (usually the Pres.) super-constitutional/dictatorial powers.  Somewhat concerning, certainly – I have a high burden of proof for these sorts of things, Bert didn’t succeed in changing my mind, but I do agree with him that the U.S. has lost some of its traditional civil liberties in the past 7 years and that’s a huge tragedy and problem.  At the end of the day, I agree with another quote, this one by Napoleon:

“Never ascribe to conspiracy that which can be adequately explained by incompetence.”

I don’t believe the government, or any secretive organizations, can long get away with grand plans and conspiracies, because most people are incompetent (look at the current US government’s breathtaking incompetence), and people can’t keep secrets.  That’s where I stand.

Read in the June 30^th Sports Illustrated that comedian George Carlin died.  That’s a bummer – I remember some of his great bits from years ago.  The downside of not getting the news is that you’re late to learn about these things.

Train spent the usual 3 or so hours at the border, passport checks and wheel change.  A woman was sniffling in the next car – wasn’t sure why.  Then she and her child got taken off the train – hmmm.  Reminded me of Thomas the Indian at the Russian border.  This border was fairly open, and we were exiting the EU, not entering it, so wasn’t sure what her ‘crime’ was.  Anyway, there she went.

Heard that Joe Liberman will speak at the GOP National Convention.  What a political vagabond/homeless bum.

Read in one of the school magazines that hair analysis can reveal our diets.  One analysis found that the average American gets more than 50% of his calories from corn, a food that is nearly devoid of nutrition.  Interesting.

Heard that Dick Cheney is visiting the Caucasus.  Well, that should clear everything up!

Slept a bit on the ride, but awoke exhausted.  Got back to the Hotel George, which, as I’ve written, is a great place to stay.  Checked in, and they had a room available before noon, that’s pretty rare and I was happy to get there, shower, and kick back.  That’s where I am right now, that’s where I’ll finish this entry.  Over and out.