The Ukraine is Weak

It's not weak actually, but my friends would never forgive me for doing a blog post about Ukraine and titling it otherwise. I thought of giving it a title of "Jackets with the Fur" (sung to the tune of the Flo-rida song) because the first thing that struck us was the incredible quantity of fur jackets. They were everywhere! Kim and I counted from a coffee shop one day, and 46 of the fifty women in the study had at least some fur on their coat! Many of them had the simple ring of fur around the hood, but there were plenty of full-on fur coats--animal heads and all!

Bird's-eye view of Kiev

62 meters of Titanium

Typical cathedral in Kiev

Inside a churh on Orthodox Chrismas

Trying to stand on a "handicapped accesible ramp"

We arrived in Kiev via a thirty-hour train ride from Bucharest. It was not a typical train ride. We had travelled to the border, about one-third of the geographical distance, in only eight hours. At that point we wondered how the last leg of the journey could take so long. I cannot be exactly sure of what happened at the border, but I think it went something like this. They disconnected our train cars from the engine to turn the train down a different track, only they forgot to set the brakes, and we were on a hill. After what seemed like about twenty minor collisions with trackside equipment--just little jolts, enough to spill your coffee--we had "the big one." Kim even made a squeal, "EEEK!" After a little investigation I concluded that we had collided with another set of train cars that were now drifting freely down the track ahead of us! After this, perfectly sterotypical Ukrainian men--tall, stubbly grey beards, blue eyes, big cylindrical fur hats--came through the car with hammers and miscellaneous metal parts and started pounding things into place. Three hours and forty minutes later we left the border town, assuming we would be at least three hour late to Kiev, yet we arrived on-time the next morning. Is it possible that they planned a minor collision into the schedule?

Rubbing a nose for good luck

Carolers

Begging for change is no reason to lose your fashion sense, look at those heels!

The Chernobyl museum

We visited some beautiful Orthodox cathedrals, went underground to see some mummified monks, and ate our fill of dumplings and borscht. But I am particularly proud of learning the Cryllic alphabet--the one the Russians use. Our maps have streets labeled in English, but the local street signs are all Cryllic. After the week in Ukraine I was able to read most of signs, but had no idea what the words meant! We had many fun conversations on the street like these:

Me: We need to turn left on Rustavelli street.
Kim: What does that look like?
Me: 'p' 'y' 'c' 't' 'a' 'b' 'e' 'sqaured-off-n,' backwards 'n.'

Or,

Me: It's on Doroshenka.
Kim: How does it start?
Me: Trapezoid with legs, 'o' 'p' 'o' 'w.'

Now it's off to Poland and all those tasty sausages!

Strays in Lviv

Enjoying some borscht