Phase 2: Bakhchisaray

Leaving Yalta behind we struggled to find a direct route to this small town with lots to see and do. We finally managed to get there and stepped inside the extremely interesting past of the Crimean Tatars. In this town sits the Khan's Palace. It is fairly well preserved (according to Lonely Planet it was left alone because Catherine the Great found it "romantic") and has some English captions to help navigate one's way around.

Being in the palace easily made me forget that I was in Ukraine. The last time I was here (in March with students for a conference in Simferopol) we did not have time to tour the palace. I had never been in anything like it before and it was neat to get to appreciate something so culturally different in rather homogeneous Ukraine.

From my prior visit, I had learned that a prejudice existed against Crimean Tatars who during Stalin's years were forced to leave their homes and relocated to Uzbekistan. Only relatively recently have they been allowed to come back to their home, but many live in small hut-like brick homes where were pointed out to me. PCV's living in Crimea are no doubt much more educated about the Tatars, their customs, and culture.

But for us, it was neat to get a taste before moving on.

Bakhchisaray: Khan's Palace

Approaching the Khan's Palace

View of the Palace

Looking from inside the main gate back. You can see the mountains in the background.

Inside sitting room

It's all in the Details.

The Khan's Palace is a gem not only because of it's historic significance or connections to the most loved Russian poet ever, but because obviously people have lovingly restored this place to reflect it's earlier grandeur.

Outside the Harem

Inside the Palace's Harem

One place I was interested in seeing was the "family" quarters of the Khan's Palace, the harem. Many rooms all over the palace were decorated in a very beautiful style and it was really interesting to walk through these rooms with their lavish furnishings.

Another View from Inside the Harem

Someone Looks Tired....

The place is definitely one of my favorite places I've been in Ukraine.

Of the many artifacts found at the Khan's Palace

one can see many Koran's on display.

New Tatar Homes

Eric took this photo from our bus ride of a new housing development of sorts. Tatars are moving back to Crimea, trying to reclaim land that they've lost.

The Kitties in My Hood

A few months ago a tiny cute black and white kitty had three little kittens. They were so adorable. One black and white like his mother, the other two grey and black striped with white tummies and feet. They were easily the cutest things on the block. People young and old would stop and watch them play together in the tall grass where they spent most of their days.

I would always stop by, chat with them (you'd be surprised how many cats here understand English), pet them and see what they were up to. They were certainly a topic of conversation along the path.

Because it's summer, I have been traveling back and forth, visiting linkmates, Spanish camp, Crimea and Croatia...and when I came back from Croatia I noticed that two kittens were gone. I had a visitor briefly and commented on this to her (she had met all three on an earlier visit) and made the association that maybe people took the other two kitties because they were male.

Here, no one spays or neuters their animals, hence, more kittens, puppies, dogs, and cats than you know what to do with. No one would want to be stuck with more kittens in a few months, as even house pets are not spayed or neutered. Female kitties get kitty birth control, which I think is also some part Valium to get them to calm down. Anyway, I was thinking how awful it was that no one would take the female kitten, especially since she was prettier than one of her brothers, when an old baba appeared with five bags ready to feed our courtyard cats.

Here I had gone and plunked down two greevnya at the продукти for a little packet of Whiskas wet food and she was bringing them their daily ration of whatever it is that she feeds them (it was white and powdery). She took the Mama cat away from me (calling her some name) and I asked in my bad Russian, "where are other kittens? Were 3, now 1?". "They were killed" she said sadly, blaming a dog in the night. "Kharoshey kotyonoky" she said to which I agreed, and she told me where she had found their little kitty bodies. She questioned why a dog would want to do such a thing and I was so upset thinking about those adorable little kittens and how they played all day in the tall grass with each other or lazily slept in the afternoon sun all curled up together while passersby took pictures with their mobile phones.

I had to obviously reject my prior thesis that sexism had been the culprit to this selection and come to terms with again that life is just hard for those unable to defend themselves.

And that dogs just really, really suck.

Phase 1: Yalta

We arrived in the Crimean city of Simferopol. There are no trains to Yalta, so everyone first has to end up there. As such, in summer, it becomes a crowded place--a transportation hub to more beautiful places. Walking to the ticket stand adjacent the train station, we got accosted no less than a dozen times asking where we wanted to go and why going with them would be better. Actually, in all fairness, most of them addressed Eric. Afterall, he is the man.

We hopped on our bus and sat down waiting for the journey to start. It is a scenic route, and we watched green lush mountains overlooking the Black Sea zoom past us. It did not escape notice that totalled cars and marshrutkas were also a part of the scenery. This road is not the safest.

Getting into Yalta, we settled in and explored the esplanade. I don't know what words my company would use to describe Yalta, but overpriced and gaudy come to my mind, but it has a good feel to it never the less.

We were able to do all the things we wanted to do in a few days. We visited writer Anton Chekhov's summer dacha where he wrote "The Cherry Orchard," "Lady with a Pet Dog" and other stories. The dacha was in excellent condition and had many original belongings of the family. They also had a little more in English about the place and the dacha itself had an English handout to help navigate. These things are rare and were very much appreciated to help enjoy the overall experience.

The next day we headed to Livadia Palace, the summer home of the Romanovs, who like Chekhov, used the fine climate of Crimea as a way of treating their tuberculosis. Of course what this place is especially known for was being the base for the Yalta Conference, the defining meeting in 1945 between FDR, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin to redraw the map of Europe after WWII.

The entire first floor is dedicated to the conference while the upper rooms are shown as the Romanov's have left them. There was little to no English in the Palace, especially on the second floor, where I had to ask the old ladies who guard each room what the room was if I could not understand the Russian write up about it. Some ladies wanted to give me a lot of information and have me regurgitate it back in English--which was beyond my abilities.

I liked the second floor more. I have had a fascination with the Romanovs for years and I don't judge Nicky as harshly as many historians do. Russia is a hard country to rule, no matter who the leader is or what his or her abilities are (at that time the size of Russia engrossed twelve different time zones). It was exciting to be in the their private rooms and think that they must have had some happy times there.

Most memorable for me was visiting the adjacent chapel where literally dozens of people were being baptized--and not just babies either. The Russian Orthodox Church is a religion of mystery, hardship and the strange earthy beauty of these things intertwined. To me it is so inexplicably Russian, and hard to articulate just why. But looking around at all the people crowded around and the children's screaming voices, I thought how lucky I am to come from a country were our rights to worship any religion we chose (or not chose) are guaranteed by our Constitution.

It's hard also to not be overcome by what Alexandra herself must have felt coming here from a Lutheran background. Devoutly relgious, she converted to Orthodoxy in order to marry and become the Tsarina of Russia, but it was a hard decision for her. How foreign it all must have been...

The last thing on our sightseeing tour of Yalta was a ferry to Swallow's Nest, a tiny castle perched high up on a cliff overlooking the Black Sea. Definitely a tourist rip off--as several men made us all pay 3 UAH just to climb the stairs to see it, but it was an interesting little place--and very picturesque.

At night we often strolled the esplanade, watching people who wanted snapsnot mementos chose between period costumes or sitting on the back of a Harley donned in leather. There was the occasional peacock or monkey to take your photo with as well, and other merriment activities. 

All in all, Yalta was good.

Moving Pictures

This picture was taken from the bus on the way from Simferopol to Yalta. 

A View of Yalta

Here you can see the city of Yalta as seen from the esplanade.

Excited to be in Crimea

Before traveling to Yalta last year, I could not ever remember seeing a palm tree!

Chekhov's Dacha's Garden

Here you can see the Chekhov's garden is still well tended to.

The Table

At this table the three men sat and decided the fate of Europe.

The Conference Room

Here is the actual room where the Yalta Conference took place.

The Italian Courtyard

The large courtyard in the palace. It was here that many pictures were taken of Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin.

The Arabian Courtyard

A really beautiful courtyard in the palace that I was really impressed with. I wonder how Istanbul will measure up!

The Upper Rooms

Here is a picture of one of the Romanov's family rooms. I made Eric take this picture because I had never seen a clock like that before. I believe that this was a sitting room of theirs.

Swallow's Nest

Here is a picture of the tiny castle perched upon a cliff overlooking the Black Sea. Not a bad piece of real estate!

Гарвард и Моллидец

Дружба и Пиво, одесса, зима 2006. Биле есть? Давай.

Proper Goodbyes (albeit in a public space)

As I posted earlier, a dear friend has left Peace Corps Ukraine--my clustermate Mary. Unfortunately her leaving coincided with Eric's trip, so we were not able to meet up right before she left. Nor was I able to fully articulate how her being here has helped me. She is one of the few people who has never wavered in her support and it can not be overstated how essential that can be to anyones success here or simply their sanity at times.

I am truly grateful that she was one of the four others in my cluster and that I had the privilege to work, learn, and just have fun with her.

So Mary, thanks for the late night chats, the never ending enthusiasm for the Russian language, and for so much more. True friendship is rare and I hope you know how much yours means to me.

May our paths cross often.

The Arrival

Several weeks ago now, I met a weary traveller at the Odessa airport. I arrived late. Eric's plane arrived much later.

Because I was unable to hail down a marshrutka, and as I mentioned earlier, I was late, I decided to take a cab to the airport. Always an expensive feat.

We made idle chit chat in the car on the way there. He told me that he'd wait for me to come back and would take me to the bus station. He even said that he'd take me all the way back to my site... for a large sum of money.

I went inside the smallest airport ever and didn't see Eric there. I began to panic, wondering where he could be--or what had happened to him--but other taxi drivers informed me that the plane was late. I'd have to wait 2 hours.

My driver said he'd stay and found me when the time approached, excitedly telling me that the plane would be arriving outside--not inside through customs. "It's coming from Kyiv" he explained, "there is no need to go through customs here." And so we waited beside the tiny airport by a fence.

Finally a little shuttle bus pulled up to the other side of the fence, and even in the dark, I could see Eric's figure as he approached the gate.

After some bargaining, I decided to take the cab all the way home. Our alternative would have been to wait in the bus station for several hours and we'd get home around 3:30am (we had a 7am train to catch, so the extra time was welcome to me).

When we arrived at my apartment we parted--the driver beeped his horn and ran towards me giving me his phone number. I realized than that I must have been the sucker of the month and he probably didn't have to work the rest of the week because of this one fare, worth well over several weeks pay to me.

But I shrugged it off. My vacation had begun.

Finally Back Home

Today, weary, tired, and exhausted I walked through my front door, put down my extremely heavy bag and was thankful that for once I had the decency to clean my apartment for a guest and that it was still clean for my arrival home.

In truth, I always feel a lot of self-pity when I return from a trip abroad. I think "Ukraine isn't as nice as ______" (fill in the blank) or, in this case too, I miss having someones company who is now so far away from me, so I feel especially lonely. I was left with lots of small presents, things like a Rolling Stone magazine with the Police on the cover. Burnt cds of music. Chocolates. All thoughtful. But after eating all the chocolates (and getting an upset stomach), and reading the magazine, I returned to being bummed out that the journey is over.

Then I reminded myself that I only have approximately 150 days left of service. This is not so much to cheer me up that I am almost done, but to energize me to accomplish all that I set out to do since I only have such a short time left. Personal and professional goals have not yet been achieved. I also need to remind myself of how fortunate I am to be doing service in a country like Ukraine, full of good people and a cooperative site.

And if all of that should fail to cheer me up and reinstate some excitement--I am leaving in a week for Istanbul... I can't really have it all that bad, can I?

Thoughts on Crimea

On the train ride back to N-- after completing our trip to Yalta, I asked Eric a list of questions just to entertain ourselves. Here is how he responded.

1. What did you see in Crimea?
The promenade at Yalta, Chekhov's summer home, the summer palace of Nicholas II, a miniature castle situated on a cliff, overlooking the Black Sea (the "Swallow's Nest"), the Khan's Palace, and a lot of hills and mountains.

2. What was the most memorable?
The highlights for me were seeing the rooms of the Tsar's palace where the Yalta Conference took place in 1945, and the garden of Chekhov's property.

3. Did anything surprise you?
The resort exceeded my expectations--it was bigger, cleaner, and more colorful than I expected--similar to Ocean City [Maryland] but on a larger scale than I reemmber. And I was delighted to see how carefully preserved the Chekhov dacha and Khan's Palace were.

4. What did you learn about Ukraine, Crimea, etc?
I refreshed my Cyrillic alphabet learned some new words like "skolka" and "chas". Learned about the lives of the Chekhovs and the Romanovs, and read about the waves of conquest and settlement that have affected Crimea over the centuries. I learned about the exile, under Stalin, of the Tatar people from Crimea and their recent efforts at resettlement.

5. Would you recommend people to travel to Crimea/Ukraine? Why or why not?
Yes, provided you have either a competent guide... or local language skills.

6. Was anything frustrating?
Only minor snags--how to find local marshrutka to Khansky Palatz. Getting marshrutka to Odessa on time.

7. What are you looking forward to seeing next (Krakow, Croatia, Lviv, and Kyiv)?
Above all the old city in Krakow, Discletian's Palace, the city walls of Dubrovnik, and the beaches of Hvar and Korčula.

When I have an opportunity, I'll post the photos that Eric took with his digital camera.

Stress

My apartment is clean. For once.

I have purchased all train tickets.

I have booked hotels/hostels.

I have made food for the train ride tomorrow.

I just now need to finish getting my own self ready and head out to Odessa to pick up Eric at the airport so we can begin our next several weeks of tremendous travel. It is safe to say that at least 1/3 of our time together will be spent on some form of transportation.

We will head down to Yalta, before going through Krakow to get to Croatia. It's going to be a marathon. And I am stressed about it, but I know that it will be a good time.

To the Americans: Happy July 4th.
To the Brits: Boo-ya, limey!

El Campo

Last week I was at an intensive espagnol camp at a clustermate's site.

I learned a little Spanish, which was fun, but mostly helped out with things like making copies, copying dvds, cds, and going to the rinok to buy Second Hand clothing; therefore contributing to the local economy before getting harrassed by some Ukrainian man who I think was trying to convert me to some strange cult either called "One Important Day" or something. I couldn't understand very well.

I also made a pinyata, which might have well been the saddest looking pinyata any group of kids with sticks in their hands have ever seen. But they did what any group of kids with a pinyata might have done: hit it until it burst open (which had to happen once it fell on the ground, still somewhat entact). We, however, had to encourage them to run for the candy and in the end ended up passing it out.

But fun was had by all, and we all learned some Spanish, sang along to songs, watched some travel videos of South America, and I got to spend time with two of my favorite people in Ukraine, one of my clustermate's and a linkmate.

The camp was the last time I'd see my clustermate in Ukraine, as she is preparing to leave for the US sometime next week. She is also the very first from our cluster to leave Ukraine. It's a sad sort of ending, but one we'll all have to do sometime.