The Wild East

"As he swivels he levels the gun in his hands at Mark's chest"

We arrived in the bus station just as the heavens opened. We huddle under a flimsy shelter while the rest of the passengers are picked up. Bright lightning occasionally and dramatically lights up the sky and lets us see, through the pitch black, the sort of neighbourhood we are in. After 20mins we had to slosh through ankle-deep water to collect our bags from the bus and headed for a taxi.
It was my second time in a Lada and I was impressed. We were crammed into the back seat holding our backpacks. Ladas may not look pretty, but in a Russian winter and on rugged Russian roads they are the ideal car (maybe). Our driver didn¡¯t speak any English. He seemed convinced were language teachers at the local university, why argue.
His put his foot down and off we went speeding down the wet, cobbled streets. Several near-fatal accidents followed with the driver swerving erratically to avoid the potholes. None of the traffic lights were working, and each junction was first come, first served. Anybody pausing or giving way gets a volley of abuse and horns from the drivers behind, or they simply try and overtake.

It's still pouring with rain, we get soaked trapsing the deserted streets. Our intended hotel ($6) was closed, so we had to stay in the Kiev ($35) a total rip-off. we should have negotiated, but they could have thrown us out altogether and we were desperate. Lonely planet (as usual) was totally wrong. We hurried across the road (but were still propositioned by some young prostitutes sheltering in a doorway) to a new pizza cafe.
We barely had time to eat before they decided they¡¯d had enough that night and kicked us out. We wandered along the pitch-black streets (streetlights were off) looking for a cafe (I was desperate for just one more beer) but there was nothing.

Tuesday
We stroll around for a couple of hours, we have our backpacks weighing us down in the heat. Being only 15km from the Romanian border I thought people might presume us to be Romanian backpackers, but it was still "Polska? Polska?" everywhere. I suppose Backpackers are a sign of a wealthy country, and Romania, despite being richer than Ukraine, is too poor to produce them. Similarly, the Russian or Moldovan backpacker does not exist.
We were offered a lift to Kamyanets (our next destination) but after serious consideration, $1 didn¯t seem worth the potential risk.
Kamyanets-podilski is an important historical town, scene of numerous battles and has been held by the Mongols, Taters, Lithuanians, Romanians, Germans, Russians/Soviets and now the Ukrainians.
The fortress was very impressive, but the rest of the town was in an advanced state of decay. The town suqare, highly recommended by the guide book, made a Wild West ghost town look lively.
Battered lorries drove past sending clouds of dust into the air. There were no pavements, no shops and I think things must have been better in the 1980s. A decrepid bridge spanned a 200ft gorge, the bridge was falling to bits, there were no safety rails and there were holes and cracks forming across it.
There seemed to be no money, investment, or new private ventures that we¡¯d seen everywhere else in eastern Europe. Even in Bosnia and Romania there were some new cafes, banks, shopping centres and tourists but here there was nothing but poverty and run-down factories. This is certainly a different 'Eastern Europe' to Czech Republic. (Russia, August 2003, is the same, if not worse).
Our home for the night was the huge, ageing Hotel Ukraina.

Ukrainian Capitalism- the rough guide. This must baffle economists throughout the world. If you pass the test, then I think you will understand UKR. Situation: There are 3 adjacent market store-holders all standing next to each other, all privately owned, and they sell identical products at identical prices (OK this happens in the UK as well). A customer appears. Question: Who tries to serve the customer? (A) All 3 (B) Nobody Answer: an easy one. (B) of course. Question: There are 2 bottles of Lvivskaya beer. (A) is standing in the warm sun, with a sell-by date of June (it is now August). (B) is fresh and cold, sitting in the fridge. Which is more expensive? Yes!! (A) of course. Question: I beer costs 1HR(Ukr hryvnya). How much do 2 bottles of beer cost? (A) 2HR (B) It depends. Sometimes 1.8HR, sometimes 2.4HR. (B).

After unsuccessfully trying to purchase train tickets, we went round the fortress.
Very impressive. Lots to see and do, and -gasp- a shop selling souvenirs and thick black beer. We explored the fortress thoroughly finally going downstairs into a basement. There is a thick oak medieval wooden door. Mark gestures that something is afoot the other side. We press our ears against it and hear medieval monks chanting. Mark quietly tries to open the door to see if there is a ritual going on inside the it is yanked open suddenly from the other side.
There was an exhibition of weapons and torture weapons along with tinny staged (we hoped!) sound effects. The door swung shut very quickly.
There was an old lady as an attendant.

Suddenly a figure swung round through 180 degrees from his place concealed near the wall. As he swivels he levels the gun in his hands at Mark's chest. He fires the ancient gun. The process seemed so slow as it unfolded, Mark murmured a resigned 'Oh s**t' before holding his chest.
I watched, frozen to the spot.
The old womans teeth glinted in the dim light.

Mark wasn't dead- the figure was a dummy. I presume the old lady plays this trick on everyone. I wonder how many heart-attacks there have been...

That evening we got on the bus to Kiev. I guarded some seats, while MT made sure the bags were on board. There was plenty of pushing and shoving. Around 20 people had to stand up (poor bastards!). The bus arrived in a town called Khemelnitskiy. Most of the conscripts got off, and the smell of beer and vodka disappeared with them. Bus drove through the night. Mark dozes...I managed a bit of sleep, maybe I've started to get the hang of this sleeping-on-busses thing.

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