For Tammy

who will accept sympathy from all parties who can commiserate...

1 AM Polish Standard Time

Get on train- check
Leave Kyiv- check
Write letters on train while heading for Poland- check
Ukr’n passport control- check
Polish passport control- check
Polish customs- ummmmmmm (definitely not check)

Passport control happened quite awhile ago and The Snorer and I were sleeping once more. I had been aware for awhile of vague bangings and tappings from down towards the other end of the corridor. But then the time came when it became impossible to stubbornly sleep through it all – maybe because our compartment was suddenly flooded with bright light. In a semi-wakeful state, I was aware of people milling around in the corridor. Suddenly there’s a Big Burly Dude outside our door… he growls something and The Snorer (mind you, not far from ‘full-snore-mode’) tumbles out the door. About a minute later Big Burly Boy sticks his head back inside and this time I realize he’s speaking Polish, not growling and what he’s just said is Ma’am, please step into the corridor. Oh groan and yuck.

Let’s look at some (cell-phone) pix. I hope you can see them well enough to get the picture…

Unscrewed the panel that joins the wall to the ceiling- the white there? cartons of cigarettes.

Came out of the ceiling (that's my bed on the left)

I’m pretty sure at 1 am most of these people would rather be somewhere other than hovering in the hallway while border patrol rips their sleeping compartments apart.

The haul from our ceiling- 54 cartons. (that’s the corner of my bed you see in the right hand corner, fyi…I wish I was in it.) Oh- and a similar haul from the compartment next door is visible in the background

This whole scene is repeated every single time this train makes this trip. What a hopeless situation. You’d think they’d get tired of the whole deal. Tired of taking the train apart in Kyiv and stuffing it full of contraband. Tired to taking it apart on the border and hauling it out. Tired of putting it all back together again… Every. Single. Day.

I spent the first part of the trip with a very nice lady a bit older than me. She lives in Kazakhstan now but was back to see family and take care of a few things. She’s from Western Ukr and for awhile in the 90’s, she ‘made her living’ smuggling alcohol and cigarettes into Poland- she says it was the only thing to do. Could be. I asked her how much they made each trip: $10.

I’ve been watching these smugglers for a long time and believe me, you’d have to pay me a whole lot more than $10 to go through that stress. They sweat. They swear. They run. They fret and worry and bite their nails. I’m sure they’re making more now, but there’s no way they make what it’s worth. The thing is, I reckon the cigarettes are just the tip of a much meaner iceberg. The amount they haul out- heaps, bags and bags (we’re talking Hefty Hefty Cinch Sack size bags…or bigger)… how can it be worth it? because they’re not taking it all… not all the cigarettes… not all the vodka… and not any of what’s likely nestled down deep in some wall… The Poles make a big show of tearing it apart. Oh They Do. But there are whole sections of wall they never touch. They never looked at 90% of our compartment- just tore into that one part…and believe me, you could take this place apart a whole lot more. But the deal is- there’s other stuff going through that no one touches, no one talks about… we saw it once when 2 rookies accidentally found some. Bags of white powder… in the wall… now what do you think that was? Powdered sugar probably. And it never left the train till after we did…

The border patrol people don't put the place back together again after they've torn it apart. Our neighbor asked Who's going to pick this all up and put the ceiling back up. Oh, Pahn (Sir) here will, they replied, indicating the frustrated conductor. And he did. The junior pip-squeak one. He got to crawl into every compartment and put stuff back together. And when he was doing ours, I noticed that his ragged slippers had been mended my stapling them. Somehow, at 1.30 am, that sight was depressing and sad and made me want to never ride that train again. If I don't see it, It's not happening, Right?

huh?

Tues am: Uncle D had been here, getting ready to leave for a 3 month trip to Australia/N Zealand... time of departure is nearing. From this apt- excluding taxis, which are expensive- the fastest way, generally, to get to the airport is to trot 10 min or so (depending on how fast you trot) to the metro, go 7 stops on the metro (about 30 min, maybe less, I don't pay much attention actually) to the train station, go through the tunnel and exit at the South Station and get on the airport bus. This trip is an hour if there are no major traffic jams- so the deal is, you don't leave for the airport at the last min. So, What was I talking about? Oh- Unc'a D- so, he gets his shirt ironed... this is important because... well, it just is. And, more so because the next thing that happens is the lights are gone- zip... and Elain's ironing comes to a screeching halt as do a few other things. Fine. Unc'a D is nonetheless ironed, starched and ready to leave for the airport... now, we're on the 13th floor, so I'm thinking that I really hope he doesn't want help getting to the airport... I mean, going down 13 flights of steps is one thing...but coming back up them, if by chance the power is off for a long time- well, yikes... Ummm.... Whew- nope, he'll go by himself. Where are the stairs? I'll show you I say... and out the door, down the hall, around the corner, around the corner we go- There, I say. Have a good trip... We'll try not to burn the house down while you're gone.


Coming back, I notice that all the lights in the hallway are on and the elevator is running... ooops. (should I include that in an email to the poor man who hauled a suitcase and carry-on bag down 13 flights of steps?)


Well, this does not bode well for us. We investigate the breaker box. Nothing amiss there... but we do notice that the meters for the neighbors' apts are all whirring away. Yuck. Call the housing people. Call the electrician. He has a voice like an elephant on sandpaper. Where? You gunna be home this afternoon? You gunna be home tonight? Well OK.


And we spent the whole day without power. In the early evening, Phyllis says I hear someone out in the hall- will you just stick your head out and see if it's the electrician? I do. It is. He's got the neighbor's meter all pulled apart. Tell him our dilemna. He grins. 10 min later, the lights come on. We pay him and he leaves (he wanted liquor but we were out...)

About 8.30 pm there's someone at the door. I open it- a man with a voice like an elephant on sandpaper. Tu....8 (our address) apartment 000? umm, yesssss... (me) Well, your lights. huh? (me) YOUR LIGHTS. I'm so sorry, I say. Someone already fixed it; I thought it was you people.


long. deadly. silence.


WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME?


I'm really really sorry... I thought you'd already been here...


he stalked off... I picked my jaw off the floor, went back into the apt and Colin locked the door again. We all just stared at each other and began to laugh. No one knows Who On Earth fixed the electricity that day. I did feel sorry for the poor man still out making house calls...

ps- just kidding about the liquor... he wanted it but we don't pay that way.

dry gulch

I'm pretty sure that's a Louis L'amour book... if it's not, it had outta be. It also sort of describes where my creative juices have gone to... (If I ever had any to begin with...)

I've been saving a few comics, so I'll post a few of them. One of the things I miss the most about America is the Funny Page... well there's a few online sites with 'deliver-them-to-your-inbox' freebie service...yay!

haha- I love Old Baby...

I feel your pain....

Any more questions? (the chick with the tall pointy hair- hmmm, the only chick in the pic- that's me)

some days are just like that

This one last because: When I got back to the States 3 years ago (3 years ago?!) my oldest nephie, Forrest (3 1/2 at the time) had an imaginary friend named Pootie. The amazing thing was F could tell you all the details of P's life, how the day had gone for him, all about his friends, their names and their histories. And if you asked him a week later, he'd tell you the same basic things- it was a real novel going on in his head. I really enjoyed those visits with him. Then convs, special mtgs and more sp mtgs happened and I wasn't around F so much for a bit. Sometime after his 4th birthday, I asked Forrest- how's Pootie? He just looked at me like What ARE you talking about??? It was a sad moment in my life. That whole period of his life had passed so quickly. I was just glad I'd gotten in on a little bit of it. F is in school now and has real friends. I need to talk to him and find out about them!

Answer to riddle

a fgh an (afghan)

mental floss, anyone?

One of my favorite rss feeds is the Mental Floss blog feed... I seldom go to the actual site, but I enjoy skimming through their posts on the feed reader if I have time. Here's today's 'Brain Game':

Indefinite articles on each side

Three alphabetical letters inside

Made of wool, made with pride
What am I?

And a link to a fun-looking puzzle post... I didn't even try it; too tired and time to hit the hay.

Spent most of the day going back and forth between the national university and the apartment. Got a 'backup' invitation from them. Soon, will be exiting stage 'west' to see about getting a visa. In between runs to the Univ (which take 2 hours each), did laundry, ate lunch, started a picture project... if it turns out, I'll post a picture here...

Thanks for all the sweet comments on the anniversary post! :) I want to go through my heaps and heaps of photo files and find more... but that will take some time...

Adios.... zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Answer to riddle: a fgh an (afghan)

Happy Anniversary to me

Eight years ago yesterday, Oct 13, my enormously numerous and heavy 'suitcases' and I first set foot (and eyeballs) on Ukraine. The girls were asking me questions in class last night, including 'How long have you been here?' which sort of jolted me into awareness of the day. It has been a wonderful, seldom dull, amazing 8 years! In honor of the occasion, I'm going to toss up some of my favorite pix from the past 8 years... It will be a long post... get your popcorn and Dew... (pix in no special order)

this was my mental therapy a few years

Mom and Dad had the time of their lives...and the first thing we did was haul them across country on the train...

you want good apples? Come on over!

I loved following the change of seasons out this window (kitchen in Western Ukr)

Taras (a few years ago!) looking at Country magazine

people dear beyond words
ditto
I'll quit saying ditto... you already knew that

this was proly the most fun bday I've had over here

well, the hat... the hat... :)
I love it that you can take walks like this

NW Ukr in late June... poppies are weeds- but, Wow, they're beautiful
I looked out this window, saw window boxes with flowers and said, Wow, that's just like Austria... Karen said, You need to get back to Austria...
:)
can you see the license plate?
the land of fresh produce... oh me oh my...

one of the most beautiful 'Old Towns' in existance
these 3 are a for real loom and spinning operation. I love love love the colors


well, we had good times in this kitchen, eh? But we're glad and thankful the woodburning stove is gone...

saturday... humor, thoughts, stuff

Has this ever happened to you? What did you do? Spit out the corn dog and go back to looking for a Twinkie? Chew a bit and think Well, maybe I could do with a corn dog? Put it down and wait to see if it turns into a Twinkie? Who really needs Twinkies, anyway? Look for the ketchup?

****************************************************************

Visit today was way off the wall different than we expected. Sometimes you're really aware that there's stuff going on... swirling... howling... all around you- but you're not quite sure what it is. And you just sort of dropped in. It'll be really interesting to see what happens next time we go.

*****************************************************************

This next bit... let's just say... 's a funny (or not) thing when you're an observer and you can see a potential train wreck coming but not a lot you can do about it because Who really wants to Hear it? But then, sometimes train wrecks don't actually happen. But, is it a smart thing to play on the tracks if there's a train due? It's like playing Chicken. You might not die but the consequences can be life-altering.

*****************************************************************

Sighhhh... I'm going to go see if they've suddenly started selling Twinkies here... that kind of train wreck I can deal with... you fix it by going on a diet...

*****************************************************************

Oh- forgot the humor. Really. Here it is... and I about fell out of my chair laughing... talk about train wrecks... and pain

fantastic bit of trivia for the day

(Really, it is fantastic... I mean, did YOU know this?)

Mace and Nutmeg are 2 spices made from the fruit of the same tree... Yup... and if you're making custard or pumpkin pie or are present where someone ELSE is doing this (and you're going to be one of the very fortunate eaters of said wonderful dish) you might be able to use this fantastic bit of trivia yourself...and wow their socks off, I'm sure! :)

Not only THAT, but nutmeg is toxic in high doses and a mild hallucinogen.

And then there's this amazing personal library- in my feed reader, from Kottke.org. Usually I just skim through this stuff, but this looked fascinating...and it was.

In other news- or rather a general comment... You guys who've been doing the yearbook thing: it's hilarious! I might try it...and I might or might not post the results... I'll say this much: You couldn't pay me to actually post a for-real 1989 pic of myself on here... oh my mercy no... ok, I had one Sr pic that was ok; mostly, though, I looked like the total nerd that I was...and I'm more than glad to be out of that time period! lol

I have some bdays to post but I'm dead tired so here you go instead

First, you discard my outside

And cook my inside.

Then, you eat my outside

and discard my inside.
What am I?

The official answer is corn on the cob... but very careful consideration (this is important, after all) of Maja's fish answer leads me to say that she gets full marks, too! (bet you didn't know this was such a big-shot competition, eh?) giggle

public service message #2

This is scary. Internet shopping... be careful.

'nuff said.

One thing about life in Kyiv- you spend a lot of your time on public transportation. And because of the location of Colin and Elaine's apartment, we spend heaps of time on the metro. And let me just say that this is quite preferable to buses, trams and trolleys. You don't have traffic jams on the metro...ever. What you do have, though, are 'people jams'... yup. Yesterday and today, we literally had to shove ourselves in- sandwich in. And when you're in, you can't fall over, you can't turn, you can't do a thing... you're lucky if you can breathe. And you're downright thrilled if you don't have some big-haired bushy-tailed taller-than-you-chick with her hair drifting around in the same space your mouth, nose, chin, eyes are occupying. We won't even talk about your nose cohabiting with said person's armpits... no, we'll just leave that to everyone's good imagination. Something else you see a LOT of is this phenomenon: each wall has a bench on it which *surprise*

has people sitting on it... and they are often fast asleep... yes, eyes shut tight. How can this be, you ask. Don't they worry about missing their stop? Oh no- no worries. See, they're not actually asleep. It is the height of rudeness to stay seated when someone quite obviously older, more handicapped or 'with child' than you are is standing... but, who wants to get up when you've managed to get a seat, complete with all that uncluttered space for your mouth and nose to occupy? No one, that's who. Sleeping solves the problem, since you obviously aren't even aware- Oh, I'm SO sorry... didn't notice you tottering all over the place there... so sorry... *shaking head apologetically*





Phyllis says she gets a notion to make pie sometimes... just every now and again, you know. And she's been talking about peaches and pies for awhile now... so the other day, coming home from somewhere or other, she sort of sashayed through the market and came back with peaches... and then not long after that, she started in on some pie crust. This particular recipe uses butter (I don't know beans about pie crust; I just know when I eat it if it's good or not.) I helped with the converting from tablespoons of butter to grams and all that. Later, we ate this confection... apparently we messed up the butter calculation... ahem... apparently we had too much... but I'll tell you this- that was one to-die-for crust... *WOW* You want melt in your mouth? Well it did... and the peach filling was not too bad, either! ahhhhh ;)






Why is it a good thing for native English speakers to pitch in and help around here? So that someday in the happy bright sunny future, we can stamp out signs like the one on the left here... photographed by Karen on the window of an upscale shop in downtown Odessa... that's one reason.


ok- that's enough for today. Today was another long day, mostly spent running around this very large city. Tomorrow will be another full day. Time to quit! Adios!

mental health break II

Apparently this title has already been used... had to go look to confirm it...

Here's your *dumb stuff* for the day

thoity doity black boids sittin' on a coid just a choipin' and a boipin' and a eatin' doity woims. Along came a joik from a shoit factowy in Joisey and when HE saw those thoity doity black boids sittin' on a coid just a choipin' and a boipin' and a eatin' doity woims... boy was he poi-tuhbed...

It means absolutely nothing at all; some wise soul taught it me about 14 years ago at preps... this Animal Crackers reminded me of it, that's all

So today was a big day. All the details really wouldn't add much to your life- let's just say that lunch finally happened when I tumbled off of the metro and into McDonald's at around 3pm... zipped by the outside of the bazaar on my way home and nearly tripped over a little old grandma crouched down by some stray vegetable and flowers she was trying to sell. The small bouquet was a bright arrangement of mums. As I was about to fly over her, I thought: We need those. How much, I ask. 7 hryvnya ($1.40). Here, she said, take this one for 7, too. So I did. A big bunch of brick red mums. So, we now have mums in 4 vases- kitchen, hallway, Phyllis' room and my room. This pic is of the ones in my room- I just swiped a few blooms for a little tiny jar I have; the vast majority are elsewhere.

We haven't seen a pic yet of Phyllis, you say? Oh- my bad. Here you go...

public service message #1

this was on my Google Reader today. I'm posting a link to it because I think it's something worth 'soapboxing' about... worth running into the ground.

Don't Do Antibiotics if you Don't Need Them