Day 23 and the long awaited Albania

It must have looked rather comical as we walked through the NARROW cobblestone streets, S2 pushing his bike with one front pannier, one rear pannier, a huge green duffle bag across the back rack that I held with one hand as I carried the Albet Heijn grocery bag, our food supply, and my purse in the other hand, while NS bumped along with her backpack and her standard 3 bags (map bag, cord bag, and toiletries bag).  We were headed to the car.  

This old town section of Ohrid was indeed picturesque, and absolutely captivating to those people from Wyoming who know wide open spaces.  Imagine no place to park on a stone path that is wide enough for about a car and a half, where any slightly wider spot is taken by a parked car.  Our car was safely in a real parking lot, atop a small hill, near a constructed overhang, seemingly built to provide more parking.

Based on his experience of parking yesterday, S2 opted to leave the bike OFF the car and follow me down the teeny, tiny streets to avoid the low hanging wires and the other low clearance places.  Thus, with me driving, slowly and deftly, he followed on the bike, until I got stopped by a car making a delivery.  It is all part of the Meditterean lifestyle.  We can't be in a hurry, there isn't enough room to be in a hurry.  I just had to wait until the delivery was finished before I could proceed.

What a great bright, sunny day!  Perfect for the latest adventure!

For years, Albania was the place no one could go.  Their border was sealed tight, and I remember stories that they only had phone connections with Greece.  They didn't want or need anyone else.  Mother Theresa might be the most famous Albanian.  When she decided to devote her life to others, she asked to go to the poorest place in the world, her own country being among the places with  'the least' of many things.

In 2006, we took the kids to Croatia.  We flew in to Zagreb from Moscow.  We spent the first night at a youth hostel.  It was a far cry from the lovely youth hostels of my first European experience in 1983.  The reviews on Trip Advisor talked about Kosovoan refugees taking up a whole floor.  I can't say that I felt it wasn't safe, but I can say it wasn't the first European youth hostel experience I wanted for my children.

Our room had 4 sets of bunk beds.  We claimed our 4 beds at one end of the room. KO lay down on the bed, and started reading the graffiti on the bottom of the bed above him.  "Know anything about Albania? Email me at ...."  It has become the measure of absurdity in our family.  Whenever we are staying in a dodgy hotel, or eating at an uninspiring restaurant, or are uncertain about how to proceed, one of the children announces, "know anything about Albania?"

Today was the day we went to Albania.  It was less than an hour outside of Ohrid that we took our place in line to leave Macedonia.  It's always a bit confusing that we have to go through immigration and customs to LEAVE one country, travel between 'no-one's land' to the next immigration and customs set up, and go through the same thing again.  On this trip, we are typically asked if we have any cigarettes or alcohol, and if all we have in the back are clothes.  This was no different...apart from being in Albania at the end of it all.

What do I know about Albania now?  

1.  Mountains - it is REALLY mountainous!  They must have some of the best road engineers in the world that are planning, designing and building incredibly smooth, easy to drive, roads up and down mountains.

2.  Car washes - if you want to get your car washed, go to Albania.  They must have more car washes per capita than any other country.  I'm not talking about high school fund raisers.  I'm talking about hoses connected to water taps at gas stations, restaurant parking lots, auto repair places, shoot, at any wide spot in the road.  I kid you note, during one 2-km stretch I bet I saw 25 car washes.  Consequently, the one Albanian word I remember is 'lavash'.

3.  Pill boxes - during their paranoid Communist time, they built something like 40,000 small, concrete enforced and covered, fortifications, with horizontal slits big enough for a gun to stick out.  My best explanation is they look like the top of a Dalex (for Dr. Who fans, who I'm finding more of as I get older).  Some were decorated with colors (now fading) and I swear one had 'Tattoo' painted across the top, and appeared to be someone's shop.

4.  Shopping Mall - Yes, Eastgate shopping mall is alive and well in Tirana.  Suddenly, all the mystique of Albania is gone.

5.  Overhead Electric lines - be careful!  They may not know about optic cables here yet.  In some places it looked like each individual apartment's connected line was making sure the building did not fall down.

6.  Road signs - they put them up BEFORE the road is finished.  Thus, our Tirana by-pass experience ended quite abruptly, literally, as in the next section of construction will have to remove several high rise apartment buildings.  AND, the road sign that pointed to our destination in Montenegro, Prague and Berlin (1907 kms) took us eventually to a dirt path.

We wanted to get through Albania and Montenegro today, so we kept moving, stopping to spend the equivalent of 8 euros (leftover Macedonian money that we changed at the border) on food .. At a supermarket and a road side fruit stall (best grapes I ever had).

Next border crossing:  We had to weave our way through MANY parked semi-trucks to find the exit point for cars.  At one point we were dutifully waiting behind a semi, the only vehicle in the lines of parked traffic, going the same direction as us.  The local, in the car behind us, communicating impatience with the car horn.  

And with that, we were through Albania.

Next up, Montenegro.  Check it out on a map ... It is not that big and also very mountainous.  Carmen seemed the happiest she had been in days, although, I was never quite sure if she would be taking us over the winding mountain roads, or through the long tunnels.  It was extremely dramatic to come out of one of those tunnels and find ourselves face-to-face, so to speak, with the Adriatic Sea.

There was no mistake, we were looking at all things Mediterranean - the sea, the air, the houses and hotels, the food at the road side stalls, the flowering plants that line the roadways, just growing wild!  A big difference for me, were this incredibly high mountains jutting out of the sea, making the road really cling to the side of the mountain, requiring extra concentration and certainty of where and when to pull off, because you were either going to plunge down (if you went left) or climb an incredibly steep drive (if you turned right).  Add to this, a HUGE dark cloud gathering on these mountains, and we knew our idea of getting to Croatia today had to be abandoned.

Not a problem, we needed to learn more about Montenegro anyway.  As I checked The Kangaroo Hotel for an room (no luck), the skies opened up and it began raining, not cats and dogs, but lions and tigers and bears (oh my) and there might have been a giraffe or 12 as well.  We were trying to navigate these narrow roads, full of tourists without umbrellas and cars wanting to get to destinations quickly, while the city's drainage system, or lack thereof, was showing just how effectively it did not work.  Despite the umbrella, I found nothing after more than 5 inquiries (again, a country putting up, signs to something, I this case, hotels, before they are finished), I was totally drenched, and the rising waters had me nervous about the potential damage to the car's engine.  S2, the driver, seemed in total shock, and I decided we had to get out of this town, despite this storm and the impending darkness.

We ended up in an apartment in the old town part of Kotor.  For me, it was a relief to see my family safe, dry, and warm.  I knew the morning would probably bring a "where are we?" In more ways than one.

That incredibly sunny morning seemed a long time ago.

The time has come to start home.....

NS and I looked at maps last night, and looked at turn around points for us.  We felt like this was it.  Based on potential routes home, the number of border crossings each would require, the condition of such roads (we can actually take 4-lane highways most of they way, certainly once we make it to Serbia or Croatia), and the fact that I'll be the lone driver, we decided it was time.

S2 looked at our proposed route and decided on his drop off point.  it will be in Croatia.  Thus, we were up (early) and on our way.  It wasn't too far, an hour or two, to the Macedonia border.  We left  Bulgaria with no problems, but Macedonia wanted proof of insurance.  that is the elusive green card for the automobile.  Having none, they offered to sell us 15 days of insurance for 50 euros, or suggested we go back to Bulgaria and drive through Greece to get to Albania.  We opted for the insurance.

Our first meal in Macedonia

So, into they country formally known as The Former Yugoslavian Republic of Macedonia, or FYROM, if that is too much of a mouthful.  It all has to do with Greek objections to the claim on the name Macedonia.

It has a very Mediterranean look and feel, dry, hot, red tile roofs, plenty of flowers growing wild, and ones tended to as well.  We noted lots of water springs by the road.

FYROM is one of the 7 countries in the world that uses the Cyrillic alphabet.

We had a bit of a bad day with Carmen.  The satellites appeared to spend a lot of time asking, "where in the world are you, Carmen San Diego?"  Between the satellites losing her, and her not recogniIng most of the roads we were on, she spent a lot of time telling us to make a U turn.  Even as we knew we were getting closer and closer to Lake Ohrid, our destination, she kept telling us to turn around.  I think we were on a LOT of new roads.

I don't know what to tell you about Ohrid, other than if anyone ever asks you if you would like to go there, say YES!  We're staying in the old city, about a minute walk from the lake (yes, we took a dip I. It this afternoon).  It must be a HUGE vacation destination for people from all over the area, because it is HOPPING.

NS announced today that she reckons part of why we have managed to stay married so long is because we don't own a car.  She thinks we are at our worst when we are driving in cities, or narrow places.  Out of the mouths of babes!

We're going to attempt 3, possibly 4, border crossings tomorrow!  Wish us luck!

It's Been 3 Weeks now

Mostly an uneventful day - we had our Bulgarian breakfast (after S2's morning bike ride). Packed up the car and headed for Sophia.  

The outskirts seemed to exude prosperity.  New highways, construction on roads that showed they would be bigger and better, huge hardware and building supply stores, large shopping malls, glass, chrome, consumerism, capitalism, whatever you want to call it.  

With Carmen's help we were able to drive right to Ploschad Nevsky, park the car, walk inside the cathedral, have lunch, wander through the flea market, admire the artists' paintings, and be on our way within the two hour parking limit.  

Boyana church was the next stop.  It had redwood trees planted there in 1907.  They weren't the purpose of the visit, just a notable sidebar.

From there it was on to the Rila Monastery, started in 927.  During the Ottoman Empire it was this secluded monastery that kept Christianity and all things Bulgarian alive.  There is no doubt, the paintings/frescoes were incredible.  It is massive, seemingly a fortress by the aerial view on the postcards.  We didn't have enough cash to stay the night, so we headed up the road to the campground/bungalow park.

Whew! Talk about rustic, talk about basic, talk about no frills, talk about simple!  I'll spare the most gory details (like the condition of the communal toilet and shower) and tell you about the beds.  Let's just say, my first thought upon laying down was 'I better not turn over at all, this bed could collapse.'  

After dinner (S2 cooked spaghetti in the well equipped kitchen, well, the stove was a bit slow for him so he used our cook stove), S2 asked me if this was the second worst place we stayed.  I asked incredulously, "on this trip?"  He meant ALL our travels.  I laughed and said, "second worst?  What do you think was the worst?"  He recalled a room in China, where we had to wait for a ferry.  The bed was merely a metal frame with a rattan mat on top.  I reminded him of the place in Nepal where they had to chase the chickens off the beds and out of the room and he couldn't even stand up straight in the room.

No one could complain about the temperature.  We were in the MOUNTAINS and got to wear long pants and sweaters.  The neighbors were incredibly friendly.  They invited us over to share some homemade wine and Raika (the local firewater).  The 4-year old with them was not the least inhibited by the linguistic communication gap.  We just shared enthusiasm as each new star appeared in the sky.

Day 20

Big surprise - S2 was up early and went for a bike ride.  We had to ask NS nicely to try and leave her wad of sheets and blankets, and help us pack up and get ready to go.  The day was heating up but our 9:30 departure at least got us on our way.

Carmen cooperated with my ten different destination entries so that we could go the way we actually wanted.  This included the 100+ kms on one of those lovely new Bulgarian highways.  It was a bit unsettling, however, to find so few exits.  Would we be able to get off where we wanted?

Fortunately, yes there was an exit at Starry Zobaga, and soon we were heading into the foothills, where it really was much cooler.  We stopped at Kazanlak for S2 to look at some Thracian tombs.  Who are the Thracians?  They were here before the Romans.  You know how all that early world history is so hard to remember .. The Sumerians, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, why are today's borders so much easier to remember?  Anyhow, this tomb dates from 4000 BC.  S2 returned with a gift for us.  He claimed it was a Thracian railroad spike.  I asked, "they were here before the Romans with railroads?"  Without blinking an eye,  NS claims, "that's why the Romans got rid of them, they were jealous of their trains."

We called it a day quite early today.  We found a non-guidebook, non-Carmen accommodation with a pool.  We were all in it by 4 in the afternoon.

The young desk clerk, clearly tickled that her English was helping her communicate may have got in trouble with her parents for letting us have the matrimonial suite for 3 people.  NS is loving the couch, the big screen TV, and the huge overstuffed bear. S2 reported the clerks very shyly asked, when looking at his passport, where his name was.  She admitted it was her first time seeing a U.S. Passport.

So where yesterday we were on the beach with hundreds of people, today we were the only ones poolside, enjoying the late afternoon sun.

A funny story for middle-aged women (others may not find this as funny or interesting): I had to buy some tampons at a highway gas station (yes, for me, you can stop laughing now).  The 'owner's manual' was in 13 languages!!!!

Day 18

"This isn't a road, this is a fricken donkey path," S2 snarled at Carmen, as she told us to turn left onto Ulitsa Tri Mart.  NS and I laughed uproariously as we spotted the sign (in Cyrillic) declaring the bumpy path we were set to drive down as indeed, Ulitsa Tri Mart.

We'd gone off the main road for S2 to see some frescoes painted in caves (UNESCO identified).  Probably due to our cycling days, we avoid retracing our route if at all possible.  Thus, we were attempting to connect a series of very small roads (those kind not on the map) to get back to the main route.  This is where, usually, Carmen is a big help.  We have discovered, however, there are just as many roads Carmen doesn't know about,  brand new, oh-so-smooth, 4-lane expressways, that she tells you to make a U-turn on.  She provides us with countless laughs.  NS and I have toyed with the idea of changing her voice to a male voice for our drive home next week (as S2 won't be with us).  The debate is what we would name HIM.

Anyhow, she'd taken us on a road that I approved, in conjunction with the map (I can't let her be the sole navigator).  Neither of us had any way of knowing that the bridge was being re-built.  Hmmmm, this might have been what that sign back at the last junction was telling us.  S2 went to pull the car up to the edge of the road (just before the drop off) to start a T turn.  The three dozing construction workers popped out of nowhere yelling and screaming.  I could only imagine their thoughts 'crazy German tourist, just because they won the World Cup doesn't mean they can fly over bridges.'  They gestured up the 'path' in the direction we were traveling, yelling 'most, most' - bridge in Russian, Czech, and apparently, Bulgarian.  

Sure enough, Carmen announced she was recalculating, and we bumped and lumped our way up this incredibly narrow road, managed to make room for two vehicles going the opposite direction to pass, and at the next, uh, intersection, Carmen announced that we should take a left turn onto Ulitsa Tri Mart.  Even more hilarious, once we made the turn and S2 made his proclamation that we were on a donkey path, she told us to continue for 8.9 kms!

This was the stretch of road where I noted, all this corn and none of it is fit for human consumption.  Somehow, sweet corn has not made it from the New World to the Old World.  Those seeds must be restricted from being exported.  Every ear of corn we have eaten in Europe (and we've lived here 10 years now) has been disappointing.  I've seen the seed signs, declaring which rows of corn come from which kind of seed (just like in Nebraska and Iowa), but as far as I'm concerned, none of it is worth eating.  I've been disappointed too many times.  Peaches, however, are another story.

Other first impressions of Bulgaria: lovely rolling hills, I mean, really romantic rolling hills, lots of flowers, especially in the stretch of grass in front of the high fences at roadside, many fruit trees, and somehow, more Mediterranean, and mosques -  not big ones, small village-sized ones.

Bulgarian is in the Slavic family and uses the Cyrillic alphabet. Perhaps it is a concession to being an EU member, but the road signs are in Cyrillic and Roman letters.  So, when we stop at a T-junction, we aren't being asked to choose from 4 different destinations, there are only two choices, it just looks more complicated because of the similarities in letters that have completely different sounds.  

Our next stop was Madera to look at the national symbol of Bulgaria, a carving in a rock face of a horseman stabbing a dragon, his faithful dog by his side.  It was pretty impressive for being there since before the year 1000.  The body parts of everything looked in good proportion, well-muscled.  I would think dragons were a bit bigger, but having never seen one, who am I to assume?

On to Varna, the beach resort of the Black Sea.  It's probably the French Riviera to Eastern Europe.  During the Cold War, those of us in the U.S. could only see photos of it in National Geographic.  We knew it would be a much bigger scene than we were comfortable with, but decided to gawk anyhow.  How hard could it be?  Drive east until you reach the ocean and then go left or right! Multi-story malls, designer stores, people everywhere, lots of traffic, where is the beach?

We meet the Black Sea.

These people don't need no stinkin' Smart Car to take one of those narrow parking spots!

We continued south along the coast, heading to Nesebar, a pre-Roman fortified city, surely there would be less of a crowd there.  The 8-km Sunny Beach, prior to Nesebar would surely be THE place to be.  In the end, we discovered every square centimeter of the coast line appears to have apartments, hotels, shops, tourists, and beach umbrellas.

We had decided to take tomorrow, the 25th anniversary of that day we got the piece of paper in Japan that says we are married, and spend it at the Black Sea.  Thus, we set ourselves up to stay two nights in a hotel, with a balcony, a short walk from the beach.

What are celebrations?

NS asked us at dinner to name some memorable anniversaries.  I was stumped.  I've long preferred to celebrate November 4, 1981, the day we were introduced.  The 25th anniversary of this came in 2006.  It was celebrated in Moscow, where we rented the Near Dacha (courtesy of the U.S. Embassy) and invited close friends for a dinner.  Our then 9-year old and 12-year old, wrote a reader's theatre about their interpretation of our meeting, and directed the guests as it was performed.

I told her I couldn't remember notable anniversaries but I could remember noteworthy events: being handed a naked, warm, pink, wet baby; coming home from Quilt Camp watching my son proudly ride his bicycle up and down the street,  sending my crying daughter out my classroom door to the new playground that she had to face without any family, watching her dress as Audrey Hepburn to emcee a concert, laughing until my sides ached and tears ran down my cheeks as the three people most precious to me lay on our big bed playing windshield wipers.  It was the moment I realized the difference between enjoying life and celebrating, concluding I'm not much of a celebrator, but more of a liver. That doesn't exactly look like the liver that I mean...but somehow, lifer doesn't look right either.

Knowing all that, you might appreciate the events of the past 24 hours...  We checked into our hotel, and were grateful for three beds, air conditioning, a BIG bathroom, even if there was no shower curtain, one of those the bathroom is the shower types, but with lots of room and plenty of space to store the toilet paper from getting wet.

We enjoyed a lovely grocery dinner on the balcony in the fresh sea air.  S2 bought the wine.  The grin on his face told me he was pleased.  Brand name: Bear's Blood. He never would tell me how much it cost.  

We headed out for a walk on the beach while NS cozied up with the AC and TV remotes.  Upon our return, she reported the shower never got warm.  While switching the plugs, we blew a fuse.  Everything went off, TV, AC, fridge, lights.... Did I ever tell you we forgot to pack a flashlight?  or candles?

S2 and I headed downstairs to try to explain to the non-English speaking woman who checked us in that we had no electricity.  No one there.  Oh, but there was a phone number taped to the counter.  I assumed it was for emergencies.  Something about the Cyrillic writing with it was the tip off.  Hmmm, big mystery, we had no cell phone service.  Not a no signal, or weak signal or searching for signal...No Service.  No wonder none of us had received the two text messages from Vodafone.  We were in no service land.  We went to the basement in search of a fuse box.  Found one, and hey, our room number was the only fuse in the off position.  Flip that switch and return to the room ....  No change.  After knocking on some unmarked doors, finding no one to help us, we gave up and went to bed.

It was quite the night, laying there thinking about how freezing cold the shower had been and how how warm the room was getting, but unable to open the balcony door because the mosquitoes would come in eat NS and S2 (she had 17 bites at last count). The restaurant across the street had a lively crowd until 4 in the morning, so even if I did open the door it would be even noisier than it already was.    All this on the eve of our 25th wedding anniversary.  Well, none of our anniversaries have been especially remarkable, so did I really think this one would be any different?

Unable to sleep, I tried to think of best possible scenarios, all of which included moving to a nicer hotel room where the fuses did not blow.  Even though that meant packing up and moving, the very thing we DIDN'T want to do today.  By 6, S2 was up, ready to eat his BIG breakfast before he tackled the problem.  He said to me, "why don't you comb your hair, you might feel better!"  As if that would help.

As he ate and ate (and ate) he went over various scenarios.  He would demand our money back and move to a different hotel, but should he find a new hotel first.  If she was able to fix it, would we still move to a new hotel?  What if they offered us a different room?   The room was certainly cheap enough that even if they didn't give us a refund, we could walk away.  On and on and on he went, while bleary-eyed me tried to comprehend what was even going on.  Somehow, NS just kept sleeping.

So, off he goes to find the desk clerk, who walks in the room, points to the small fuse box above the door and motions for S2 to flip the switch that is obviously in the wrong position.  He couldn't stop laughing.  I failed to see THAT much humor in it, set the AC on high, and went back to bed.

By the time I wake up, S2 was nearly finished hand washing all our laundry (having figured out how to turn the hot water heater on), NS had eaten breakfast, and both were happy to see me in a better mood.

So, as the two of us splurged and rented a beach umbrella and two lounge chairs on the shore of the Black Sea, going in the water to cool off, we reflected on our 25 years of marriage.  We both admit, it hasn't always been easy, but we've learned a lot about adapting and being flexible, and about leaps of faith.

Maybe the next time someone asks if we ever had a memorable anniversary, I'll remember this one, or maybe I'll try to remember and only come up with memorable moments of living: my daughter's squeals and wiggles as she read the menu at the Three Broomsticks, my son's incredible graduation speech, my husband's laugh when our daughter squeezes into our embrace and says 'y'all make room for Jesus.'

NS excused herself from dinner and went for a walk on the beach.  Shortly after she left, there were fireworks in the sky, lovely bursts of orange, gold, yellow, red and green.  Yes, us romantics had to kiss and say we saw fireworks.  They lasted a short 5 mins, and when NS returned, she announced, "so you thought I was in the room all day, but really ...."  I finished her sentence, "you were arranging fireworks for our anniversary."

I slept much better that night.  No noise from the neighbor restaurant with the AC running all night.

Day 18 and 19 are coming

You get behind a day, enjoying air conditioning, and the next thing you know, you're in a hotel with no WIFI, and enjoying other things.  

Day 17

"Are those the pockets of her shorts?"  So asks the 16-year old who has attended private schools all her life (apart from that one year at the one-teacher school house in rural Wyoming).  We could call it naïveté. We could call it a sheltered life.  Or we could just call it common sense.  As near as I could tell, she was seeing a prostitute standing by the side of the road, cell phone in hand, decorative pockets sticking out from under those skimpy shorts.

We were on the ring road around Bucharest.  In an attempt to avoid the traffic-clogged city, we were attempting to take the bypass, but so were countless semi trucks.  Thus, we were in bumper to bumper traffic, easing our way around the outskirts of a city with limited infrastructure.  It was a two-lane by pass, with no paved shoulder.  Thus, the occasional car-in-a-hurry, went speeding over the incredibly bumpy, pot-holed side of the road, attempting to cut in line before their shocks gave out.  There were countless vendors walking up and down the middle of the road, some wearing those umbrella hats that protect their heads from the sun.  What were they selling?  Not the flowers or newspapers we often see when we are stuck in traffic in Denver, but a shoe...that's right, a single shoe.  You can imagine the fun NS and S2 had with that.

We were en route to Bulgaria, trying to get across the border and stay the night there, since we were down to our last Romanian leu, there was no reason to stop.  We'd only have to go to an ATM.

The day had dawned back in Sibiu, another great historical city.  We had a lovely room in a pension on the corner of two very busy, one-way, narrow cobblestone streets.  It had not been a restful. Ought, as we all jumped every time a car came zooming by, or at least that's what it sounded like they were doing.

We packed up and headed out to drive over the Trans-Carpathian-Polyhedron highway (NS added that last bit).  It was a gorgeous stretch of incredible hairpin curves (google maps shows 15 on each side of the pass).  It was fairly exciting starting up, wondering exactly what the top of this pass would look like.  Trees? No trees?  Snow?  No snow?  Semi-trucks or not?  How much traffic would there be?  This was the road the border guard told us about.  It was  spectacular winding up to the mist, leaving timber line, passing countless cyclists pedaling their way up.  There were so many, with their obvious sag wagons, walking-talkies in hand, grins on their faces, that I did wonder if we were driving through a race or something.  

We were a sag wagon as well, it was just that our rider was getting out at the TOP,of the pass, and we'd meet him at the bottom of the hill.  Hey, when you are over 55, you know life is a lot more about having fun than proving anything.

NS squealed with delight as we went in and out of the mist, as the "land below" disappeared before her very eyes.  When she saw the cable car on the wire overhead, she gasped and wondered why we couldn't ride up the mountain that way.  We stopped at an open space near the top as she wanted to feel the air, touch the raging waters of the stream tumbling down, and take the traditional Uncle John photo

Courage in the face of a brisk wind

She remarked how Victoria, Klaus' Singaporean girlfriend would freeze just looking at the water (we all marvel,at her complaints about how cold it is in LA).

We let S2 out and watched him glide downhill, while we tried to set up the do to the radio for musical entertainment.  Of course, we caught up to him, took some photos and continued on down the hill until we saw THE lake and a place to pull off the road.  He joined us 26 kms later.

Border crossing was easy, once we got in the correct line.  It is a bit confusing, the car is EU, but we are not.  We joined the Ukranians, and were waved in.  All while listening to Bulgarian radio playing the soundtrack of Mary Poppins!

We programmed Carmen to get us out of Ruse, but stopped at a Kaufland first (mega grocery store).  The ATM provided with Bulgarian Lev.  We got dinner food.  It's so easy to point and agree at a deli or bakery or fast food place.  This, we ended up at Ray's Tourist Complex with a gorgeous room, eating some concoction of liver, rice, cheese and humus with great bread.  Oh, and another GREAT bottle of wine.  The air conditioning that night was stupendous!  Yes, I do like my comfort!

The colors of Eastern Europe need a comment or two...

In 1991, S2 and I pedaled through eastern Germany, Poland, what was then Czechoslovakia, and Hungary.  The lack of color was noteworthy.  Having recently jumped ship from the Communist bloc, there were lots of new things going on, and I suspect getting rid of the dull, drab, concrete grey was not as high on the priority list as a few other things.  Actually, a German colleague of mine, who grew up in the east, told me the first thing she wanted to get when The Wall came down was a Barbie doll for her daughter and to try Nutella (they could get western advertising In the east).

So, this time through, I've noted substantial differences in the color of houses.  It started just after Prague, when driving passed Brno, I saw apartment blocks (at least 20 stories, or more, high) that were painted lovely pastel colors ....  Liliac, mint green, periwinkle, soft begonia, and lemon yellow.  What does it do to one's disposition to wake up in the dead of a cold, grey Northern European winter and look at a 20 story lilac building?  Surely, it takes the edge off of any grumpiness.

The colors are evident everywhere we drive.  I like to try and decide what to call them.  I have identified Barney purple, E.U. Blue, Holland orange, Christmas green, carnation pink, dusty rose, daffodil, mauve, aquamarine, teal, sky blue, ocean blue, lagoon blue, lagoon green, emerald green, red orange, burnt orange, coral, apricot, peach, WYO brown and gold, sand, mahogany, chestnut, UPS brown, and maroon.  Those shade of purple and green are the real eye catchers.  Not only houses are painted these colors, but shops as well.  I wonder if we had the SHADE of yellow that Andy's grandmother's house was, perhaps we would have been able to find it!  :D

I Vant To Drink Your Blood!!

Bran Castle was the destination for today.  S2 was up early and headed down the five flights of stairs (just like home) to pedal the 50 kms up and over the Translvanian Alps.  He was able to do this all before the sleepyheads were out of the room (we were up, just not out).  It was jaw dropping to round that last curve and see that BIG castle. 

O.K....that is taken from the steps of the entrance.

NS loved this overgrown set of stairs behind the locked gate.

The knocker on the door ....

Yes, it was all very cool.  The real story of the castle, however, has little to do with Bram Stoker actually spending any time here.  The character he based Dracula on was known as Vlad the Impaler.  Look him up on Wikipedia if you want to learn gory details ... He sounded like a fierce soldier to me.

The interesting history of the castle was the Romanian royal family who lived here.  The Queen, actually worked as a nurse during World War I.  The family was exiled during the Communist regime.  it's been in this century that the surviving members of the family gave the castle back to Romania.  I got chills of excitement reading the letter from the Prince, thanking the "elves of Bram" and proclaiming it a true fairy tale that they had all taken such good care of the castle sine the family was forced into exile.

the courtyard

The Queen 's bedroom

Our traveling artist

An itty bitty cannon

we continued on to Brasov (and their Hollywood-type sign)

The streets were lively on a Tuesday night

And yes, there is a Bank of Translvania with ATMs that give money, not blood.

Has it really been two weeks?

Each of us counted three different ways at dinner, but we all agreed, we'd been on the road that long!

S2 returned from his morning bike ride after it started to get sweltering.  NS and I were still comfortably contained in our air conditioned room.  Remember, I said this place was a find!  He had a brand new scheme of us taking another over night trip without the car.  We'd take the 4-hr public ferry out to the mouth of the delta, with his bicycle.  We would stay the night and NS and I would get on the same ferry the next morning for a 7AM departure, while he cycled up River to get on at one of the towns. Using Google Maps and their satellite view, we discovered, there are no connecting roads!  If he wanted to ride in the early morning (more bird life) we would need to stay 3 nights!  NS called for a Swiss vote (S2 introduced this means of solving disputes while cycling over spring break with some Swiss friends).  It never made it to the ballot stage as he adopted the plan as not happening on this trip.  I pointed out it would be a great spring or autumn break trip, when we worked at the international school in Bucharest.

So, we packed the car and headed back west.  Our next stop ... Dracula's castle.

First, a traffic jam..

Another ferry crossing

And on down the road towards Transylvania!

However, in the foothills of Transylvania is the small village of Alunis.  This past school year, I had, for the first time, a child from Romania.  His family seemed to understand my fascination and delight with having a student "from behind the Iron Curtain."  Truth be told, he was no different than any other student.  At the age of six, he was learning three languages (Romanian, English, and German), he loved dinosaurs and Cars and Buzz Light Year, and on the field trip to the apple orchard, he wouldn't help cut the apples because he said his mom told him not to use sharp knives (I like to support anything a child says about their parents).  His little sister adored him, and it was clear when school was dismissed that she grew impatient waiting outside for him and pulled her mother inside to find him.  The hug she gave him was reminiscent of another little sister with intense feelings for an older brother.

Andy's parents consulted friends of theirs and provided us a list of places to go in Romania.  They provided us with the best map of the trip, and loaned us their GPS (we call her Carmen San Diego because NS likes to say 'where in the world are we Carmen San Diego?").  With the map spread out on the tables in my classroom, I asked Andy and his mother where Andy would be with his grandmother.  His father was taking him to Romania as his school was finished before his sister's and his parents still had to work.  She showed me the village, I circled it on the map, and Andy told me, "it's the yellow house."  His mom just grinned and confirmed it was a yellow house.

Can you see where this is going?

Despite Carmen's insistence of u-turns to head back down the mountain, we kept driving up, and reprogramming her until we were less than 10 kms from the village.  As we passed the road sign declaring this was now Alunis, we stopped at, yes, the first yellow house.  It would have to be a miracle, right???  That is correct, it would have to be a miracle, and it wasn't.  

What we did find, however, was a man, who only spoke Romanian, and armed with S2's pictionary page, he rode with us as we drove up this small valley, stopping wherever he told us to, as he proceeded to question anyone who would answer him.  From my perspective, it seemed like it probably went something like this... These people teach at an international school in Germany, Hannover.  They are looking for a student they had, his grandparents live in this village.  The boy's name is Andy, he's about this tall, his sister is Mare, she's about this tall, their mom is named Dana, the family name is Tudora.  Can you believe it...they don't have a street name or a telephone number?  Oh, and the grandparents live in a yellow house!

The quest was taken seriously by him, and several others, as phone calls were made, doors were knocked on, people gestured and yelled, and we were told countless times....you should have a street address.  Call Germany and get a street address!

We took a photo of the Primary school to prove we were here, and our quest leader in front of his yellow house.

  And just at the last minute, the son of the neighbor appeared, and he spoke Spanish.  S2 rattled off the whole story in Spanish, which enabled everyone to confirm they had the details correct (a crowd gathered whenever we stopped to discuss the situation with anyone).  As everyone seemed so sad for us, so disappointed that we couldn't find them, S2 explained in Spanish, 'we knew it would be a miracle if we found it' and tried to reassure everyone that it was fine.  Our Romanian thank you's hardly seemed like enough.

NS's sense of humor through all this was incredible.  How do you explain to a 16-year old that the world is full of kind-hearted people, just waiting for someone to come along so they can be helpful and kind?  You take her traveling, that's what you do.

It was not a failure that we didn't find the yellow house, it was a miracle that we TRIED to find the yellow house.  Life is for living, and seeing the miracles in our everyday experiences.

Nothing unlucky about Day 13

Window open, fan running, stadium-like lights outside our window lighting up the room like the brightest night light ever ... It wasn't exactly a restful night of sleep in Moldova.

Our room came with breakfast and we asked Nathalie if we could have it earlier rather than later, so we were all up and ready to eat by 8:30.  NS even had WARM water to help wake her up.

We descended the royal looking staircase and saw the same people working the front desk and the concierge desk as when we came in yesterday.  The concierge even smiled at my Russian 'good morning' greeting.

We had to pick up our breakfast receipts, walk them across the lobby to give to the woman behind the counter at the bar.  She looked at them and said, "coffee?"  She had that Soviet "she who must be obeyed" look about her.  Both S2 and I hesitantly asked, "tea?" To which she replied, "black?"  Da.  NS asked for juice, but she was directed to look at the soft drink fridge and settled on bottled water.  We went to sit down at the bar (or was it a display case for Moldovian wines?  Some were in moonshine-like jugs) and she pointed us to the small, VERY formal dining area.

Breakfast was a slice of bread with cheese, a dill omelette (or was it dill made to look like an omelette?), two slices of tomato and 3 slivers of very small cucumbers.

Packed up and on our way out of the city by 10:00, I found Carmen San Diego recognized no destinations in Moldova, so we had to program her for a destination in Romania, and hope she didn't take us through the Ukraine to get there.  Moldova is shaped like a scalene triangle, with the narrowest part at the bottom where the Ukraine and Romania come together.  We got out of town and found she had us on a major expressway (WOW).  of course, that eventually gave out and we were back to the rough roads we expected.  We turned Carmen San Diego off and used our Romania map with Moldova edges to get us south.  This enabled us to blast our communal playlist through the speakers (Carmen San Diego and the iPod both use the cigarette lighter for charge).  Nothing like driving by fields of sunflowers, vineyards, and corn, listening to Rolling Stones "you can't always get what you want", Starships "nothings going to stop us now" and that hilarious Bowling for Soup stuff that NS likes.

Some of us grow up knowing about John Deere tractors, others of us learn about Beloruss tractors.

There seemed to be a bustling Sunday market in every size able town we went through, but parking was minimal!  We also didn't stop to buy any of the peaches at roadside stands.  Thus, we were at the border around 2:00.  The next two hours were somewhat confusing as we waited in lines of no more than 4 or 5 cars, but Moldova had to look our passports over, look in the car for cigarettes, and write down (no computer) the license plate number of the car.  Romanian border officials did mostly the same thing.  There customs official looked a bit like Lyle Lovett, dressed in really tight camp, with an exceptionally thin waist.  (One DOES NOT attempt to take photos at border crossings).  The Immigration official seemed impressed that we worked at an international school in Germany and was quite impressed that Nathalie spoke German.  As we were coming back in the EU, I had the insight to also give them our German ID cards, which is how they knew we were working there.  I like to think the official was tickled that we were getting out and seeing more than Germany.

Carmen San Diego back on, we seemed to weave our way through the port side of Galati, and were shocked when she had us stop at a river and say "Proceed driving on the Dn229a". What????

It was a ferry to take us across the Danube River.

We were headed into the UNESCO recognized Danube Delta.  We located a pension at the base of some monument on a hill (one of our stumble upon great finds) in Tulcea.  

The proprietor gave us incredible attention with our dinner.  There weren't a lot of choices on the menu, and he made sure to let us know what we could have (different than those places, who give you the menu and don't say anything about what they have or don't have, and when they don't have your first three choices, you just point at something ... This is how Nathalie ended up with duck liver one night...and ate it, granted not all of it, but she sure tried.)

He brought a complementary shot of something really good before the meal, and incredible carafe of wine with dinner, and when we moved inside because the mosquitoes were eating S2 alive, he brought us slices of the most remarkable cake.  He insisted it was made on site, not from a store.

He helped us understand that S2 couldn't just cycle into the delta tomorrow, so, we went to bed not knowing what we were going to do the next day.

I have a more recent understanding of the scientific process behind the making of a River delta, thanks to my daughter and that remarkable 6th grade Science teacher she had in Rotterdam.  After crediting her source of information, she added, "but I'm a Physics type gal now, Newton's Laws of Motion and all."

We're up to Day 12!!!

Day 12

Did I mention the horse carts?  We see at least 30 a day.  Yesterday, one was turning onto the road, across my lane of traffic.  The driver had a friend in the middle of the road, watching for traffic.  I slowed down to make certain he could steer on to the road.  The driver stood up and tipped his hat to me.  

The horse carts are hauling a wide variety of things - hay (they are the best, great big bulks of hay that look like you could pull out one piece and it would all fall), logs (not great big ones, but logs about the diameter of a cantaloupe), dirt, produce, junk, people, and big white bags of something.  Today I saw a cart being loaded with hay, out in the middle of a golden field, nothing around, just the cart, the horse, the hay, and the person with a long hay rake and a pitchfork.  The lighting was enough to make me feel like I was in a painting.

We stopped for "lunch" at a LUK oil truck stop, complete with outdoor cafe tables and a well maintained rose garden.  It was a simple, yogurt, muesli, nacho chips lunch.  When in Romania try Romanian nachos.

Train crossings always have a stop sign, even for the tracks that clearly have not been used since the fall of communism or beyond.  Some cars just continue right on, others stop and cautiously proceed at a diagonal.  I have seen trains, all rusted out freight cars, and passenger trains, much like the ones I rode in Europe in 1983 (I.e., old).  One crossing was actually working, not a train in sight, but both arms were down and traffics was stopped.  no one was even driving around the barrier arms.  Then a train appeared, and a car behind us shot up the wrong side of the road and cut in front of the second car.

There are always smiles at our attempts to say thank you in the local language, and I'm happy to report that NS is the one who proclaimed, "let's figure out how to say thank you BEFORE we get in the country!"

Currencies: we are currently carrying some of each of these: euros, Czech krona, Polish zloty, Ukrainian something - we never did figure out what they were called (only REALLY small stuff because we didn't even have enough left for our last tram ride), Romanian leu, and now, Moldovian leu.

That's right, we are in Moldova!!

Despite the horror stories on the internet, we crossed into Moldova with little to no problems.  Well, we're here, so that must mean it was easy enough.  The first eyebrow raise from the border guard was the fact that we did not have a notarized power of attorney from the owners of the car.  I thought of my Russian friend, Nastya, telling me every document needs to have a stamp on it.  The next eyebrow raise was we did not have proof that we had international insurance.  "Moldova requires international insurance."  We kept apologizing, said "this is all we have" and refrained from asking "do you want us to turn around?"  Instead, she told us to park the car, and Stewart went and bought a week's worth of insurance for 4 euros, either that, or he paid 4 euros for us to be able to drive on the roads.

We explained to Nathalie the wisdom of staying calm with people, never getting angry.  Or as we learned from some Swiss cyclists years ago (so S2 claims, I thought it was just being polite), officials will always match your level of anger, so stay calm.  I also remember S2's youngest sister, Evvy, telling me one time, "I don't worry about you guys, because everything always works out for [S2]."

The best description of the countryside would be a less developed Romania, less fences, more run down buildings, and less of them, worse roads, faster cars, and fields and fields of fruit trees, sunflowers, corn and vineyards.  

We're staying in the capital, Chisinau, in a CLASSIC Soviet style hotel (hot water from 8 to 11, AM and PM...we had none in the PM).  Again, only bottles of wine available at the restaurant.  I didn't come here to drink beer, so the smoothest bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon I ever had came back to the hotel with us.

My fascination with this part of Europe might be with the idea of this is how we all used to live, before we got in a hurry to make more money and have more things.

The 11th day

The 11th day

It was the perfect start to a day.  Mr. Only-Sleep-A-Specific-Number-Of-Sleep-Cycles got up at the crack of dawn and headed out on his bicycle (you saw that we carry it on top of the car, right?) with food, a map, his cell phone (TURNED ON), and his camera.  The rest of us got to sleep to our heart's content.

There was all that wet laundry to pack up, but NS and I managed.  We got started down the road shortly after 10:00, just as we received the text message that S2 had arrived at the monastery he wanted to see.

Those Hungarian peaches got us started on the day.  We drove through countryside similar to what we saw yesterday.  I noted that when I stopped to let two girls cross the street (at a pedestrian crosswalk) they crossed themselves (as in the action people take when entering a church).  The carved wooden gates to peoples' houses were spectacular.  NS noted they when had carved wooden chains.

We arrived at the Bârsana monastery and met up with S2.  Gorgeous is the best way to describe it.

Bike back on the car we continued our journey into Borśa.  We stopped at a Penny Markt (we have those in Germany) and bought some pastries.  They are known for lots of baked and fried cheese.  We found many different kinds!

Up over Prisiop Pass (roads did get pretty bad on this section)

Afternoon rain showers saw us into Voronet Monastery (S2 was the only one who left the car for the rain).

It was a short drive to Suceava, also on the UNESCO sites that we visited today.  Again we were offered the Matrimonial Suite (in two different hotels), and again S2 choose to sleep on the floor.

It was a lovely dinner at an Italian restaurant, and we found out how to order just a single glass of (good) wine.

Oh, I forgot to add, laundry is still drying.  NS rode most of the day surrounded by drying clothes, the remainder is hanging up on the back porch of the evening's hotel.

Truly, I can't say enough about the wonderful scenery, the helpful people and the authentic experience of Romania.  Come soon, before Western Europe discovers how quaint it is here.

The 10th Day

Day 10

Definitely time to do laundry!  How does one move from one country to another, unable to speak the language in either country, needing two different currencies, get laundry done?

Oh, just keep driving and something will work out.

We finally stopped and bought that watermelon.  NS's German helped with that purchase.  We also got some nectarines and peaches at the same roadside fruit stall.  He told NS, several times, they were from Hungary.

We were a bit surprised by the line at the Romanian border.

Other antics at the border... Where we listened to "Harper Valley PTA" on the radio, NS seemed somewhat alarmed that we knew all the words to it.  We were equally alarmed.

Our passports were taken, the car documents were asked for (we have the title with us), and we were told to pull over to the right.  NS wondered if this was another case of "oh, cool, American passports!"  While we waited, we looked at the map and planned our route.  Documents were returned with a "have a nice trip."

We'd been warned by countless people that the roads in Romania were awful and that was from the people who were supportive of the trip.  I saw a picture on the internet that showed flowers growing out of the long unprepared potholes.  Thus, it was a pleasant surprise to find the pavement in such a condition that it was quite easy to maintain a 60 km/hr rate, and easy to understand why those who prefer to travel at 130 km/hr would report the roads were awful.

My first impression was that everyone builds their house next to the road, no one makes the front yard the front yard bigger than the back yard.  And those back yards are HUGE gardens, as in growing vegetables.  There seem to be fruit trees everywhere.  One stretch of road included about 10 people spread out along the road, each holding a basket up, that appeared to be full of ENORMOUS mushrooms.  There was also a newer house that looked like some sort of modern Roman palace.  At least the facade appeared to be like that.  Many buildings appear to have peeling paint, various crumbling features, and clothes hanging out to dry.  Laundry!!!  We weren't making much progress there.

Hunger got the best of us and we stopped at a town square for a bite to eat.  No picnic tables, just a bench, so we ripped into that watermelon and ate what we could.  Not seeing a gracious way of giving the rest away to some one, we wrapped it up and continued down the road.

Our guide book reported a cemetery along our route known as "The Merry Cemetery."  So we stopped for a look.  A local wood carver started the tradition of these colorful headstones, and his apprentice continued the practice after he died.  It certainly was a place with a lot of character.  The church was under renovation with wooden scaffolding covering it up.

And the dozens of souvenir stalls showed me just how many people stop to look at this.  We were the only non-Romanian car.

With the change in time zone (we are now 10 hours from KS), it was time to start looking for a place to stay and take care of that laundry!  

We ended up in a classic new enterprise venture.  Hotel (8 rooms) each with their own bathroom, banquet hall, restaurant, pension in another building (shared bathroom), swimming pool, and tennis court.  The various workers knew enough languages between them (French, German, Italian, Spanish, English) that S2 was able to communicate we would take the honeymoon suite (complete with jacuzzi) and one of us would sleep on the floor (only one volunteer there), eat at the restaurant, use the pool, and managed to convince them to let us use the washing machine.  The next challenge came trying to convince them we did not want the standard 90 minute wash cycle.

It was after 11 when we got to bed, after a good meal, a great bottle of wine (they don't sell it by the glass), and drying laundry spread out everywhere!

How could I forget!  NS giggled immensely while watching Winnie the Pooh and Scooby Doo (the same episode she watches every time she visits Grandma) in Romanian.  Children's shows were dubbed, but the other western shows appear to be subtitled.

While swimming in the pool some local men appeared to gather for their weekly game of tennis soccer, played on the tennis courts.  Three to a side, the ball can only bounce once, three hits to get over the net, no hands allowed!  You should someone put spin on a soccer ball, with their back!

Day 9

Day 9

It was a smooth ride back to Przemyśl (I must learn how to pronounce that).  Somehow, we were sold three non adjoining bunks in sleepers cars, but rolled with the punch and made due.  We all somewhat dozed in and out between officials coming in and out, beautiful women toting enough contraptions around their neck to be a ATM machine or something.  The lowest tech item they had was the stamper.  I didn't ask if the gun was loaded.  The best part was the Polish Customs official who asked, "do you have any cigarettes?  Do you have any vodka?"  One should make sure one's children know not to be a smart ass with border officials.

Przemyśl was a lot more lively at 12:30 in the morning than at 3 in the morning.  Brushed teeth, showered, and fell into bed, feeling like I might sleep 3 days.  Well, it wasn't exactly a bed.  Each of us had a couch that slides into a bed, so that center seam made it a bit rough to find a comfortable spot.  Every time one of us made an adjustment, it sounded a bit like an old wooden house settling.  So it was really only about 7 hours of sleep.  

And the day dawned SUNNY!  Talk about bright!!!  No afternoon rain storm at all.  Next destination punched into Carmen San Diego, her ubiquitous "re-calculating" and we were off.  

In 2012, the Ukraine and Poland co-hosted the European Cup, so some infrastructure was developed for that.  We benefitted from that by getting on an amazingly empty stretch of interstate highway.  S2 said, "this is less traffic than on I-90 between Gillette and Sheridan."  (See, we tend to relate what we see back to something we already know)

Before leaving Poland we stopped to get gas and use up our zloty.  It didn't work, there was still money left over.  Slovakia was the next county, they use Euros, so we converted what we could to Hungarian florins, and bought junk food, I mean, snack food with the rest.

It seemed like a quick dash through eastern Slovakia, but really it was still lovely winding roads through fields of grain and corn, and a load of semi- trucks, thankfully, heading in the other direction.  There was an occasional tank monument, and something S2 recognized as a Maletov fortification.

Hungary is also benefitting from the economic assistance of the European Union, as we drove on well maintained roads, saw several recently completed shopping malls, brand new houses with elaborate well-maintained gardens and roadside fresh fruit and garden stalls.  S2 continues to talk about stopping to buy a whole watermelon, but NS claims it wouldn't feel right without KO.  I feel water logged just thinking about the three of us trying to eat a whole watermelon in one setting.

We passed a BIG U.S. Steel plant, some kind of BIG Ford plant, and some factory called "HELL".  NS wanted us to drive around the round about until we could get a photo of the sign that pointed to the road to HELL.  (She doesn't get EVERYTHING she wants).

Big excitement today when NS added a Macedonia license plate to her growing collection of identified license plates.  Just like our road trips in the U.S., she keeps a record of each country, as we did with states and provinces.  At this location, seeing a car from Great Britain is a bit like seeing a car from Alaska or Hawaii.

Also, we stopped counting sightings of live storks when we drove by a field that had more than 20 of them stalking around looking for something on the ground. NS reckoned they were digging for babies. It is pretty spectacular to see 3 of the gawky looking birds all settled in the same nest.

After some adventurous searching (sometimes we use Carmen to locate lodging...sometimes she is wrong), we settled on a lovely motel/restaurant where one waitress spoke enough English to get us checked in, and then waited on us as well.  Hungarian Goulash is so much better when it is authentic.

And amazing, isn't it ... So many places have WIFI.  Next up...Day 10 in Romania! 

I'd like to point out that I have proof someone beside my younger brother is actually reading this blog!  Thanks for joining in Susan!  John, my younger brother, and long time friend, Deb, are my inspirations for giving this blog more than the old college try!  AND Deb showed me how to check my blog statistics so I can see who is reading, well, I can tell what country you access the blog from.  but there is nothing like the public proof of being here once you post a comment!

She may be 16, but she still likes her Jammie starts!

Day 8

Day 8

Starts at 3 AM. 

When we first started planning the Eastern European road trip, S2 had the idea of including the Ukraine on our itinerary.  This was before Vladimir Putin and the Russians moved into the Crimea.  Even once they did, the two of us maintained the conflict was in EASTERN Ukraine, not WESTERN Ukraine where Lviv is located.  We started reading about Lviv some years ago.  It is deemed the Paris of the east, and void of tourists.

A few searches on the internet reveals there are indeed intrepid travelers making their way in and out of the Ukraine with no problems.  Well, at least the blogs I read. Our Romanian and Bulgarians contacts discouraged us from driving in, sharing stories of 8 hours to go 2 kilometers, just to cross a border.  So I looked at alternative modes of transport. It was undoubtedly a middle-age bit of wisdom that prompted me to look seriously at the idea of train travel. 

The only problem I could see was the once a day train that leaves the Polish border town of Przemyśl at 4 in the morning AND the train BACK arrives at just after midnight.  So, how can we take a night train, return on a night train AND keep the car, the bike and everything we don't carry with us safe in Poland?  

The Crocus Hotel, with a friendly proprietor who speaks superb English, despite his constant apologies for not speaking English became the answer.  He worked for years on cargo  ships, learning the languages of various countries.  He speaks Spanish as well.  He checked us in for two nights, assured us everything would be fine, had Stewart put his bike in his shed, and asked us to drive the car up onto the lawn so he could always see it from the reception office.

He even waved good bye to us as we left at 3:30 this morning to walk the 10 minutes to the train station.  NS marveled at what a great setting for a story we were walking through ... Dark, foggy, a cool mist in the air ... No black cats darted across our path, and we aren't in the right country for Dracula.

There might have been 6 people at the train station at that hour, and we were the only ones on our platform.  Much to my surprise, a train appeared long before I expected.  It had two sleeper cars, and the engine disconnected and chugged away before we were even in our compartment.

It was a VERY cool compartment, with 3 sleeper bunks, already made up.  Great, just fall back asleep.  Not exactly, Polish immigration entered, not one, not two, but FOUR officials inspected our passports.  This included holding some sort of monocle next to EACH page of the passport.  What were they looking for?  I had this sense that they didn't see too many U.S. Passports, and so they ALL needed to check out the watermarks, holograms, and whatever else are hidden in U.S. Passports.  This could be things they only read about in books.  Here was a real live example.  We were stamped out of Poland, and allowed to find some sleep, but not much, because soon we were in the Ukraine ... And those Immigration officials came to collect passports.  They didn't seem as enthralled, as they stamped the whole train in less time than the Polish officials took with our passports.  Ahhh, back to sleep...  No, next came the ticket conductor announcing our arrival in 20 minutes.

Thus, we arrived n Lviv, feeling jet lagged and only crossing one time zone.  We stumbled around the train station getting money from an ATM.  Only to return to the ATM when we discovered we'd only taken out about 8 Euros and needed 30 euros each to buy our return tickets.  Great, now we had tickets back, but were still tired, hungry, had to go to the bathroom, and suddenly outside in the blinding sunlight.

Moscow days flashed before me as we headed into town on a tram that immediately was caught in gridlock.  Our tram couldn't move until a different tram moved, and that one couldn't move until a taxi moved, and the taxi couldn't move until we moved.  The trams won!

The Cyrillic alphabet (most of which Nathalie can read...it took her less than 5 minutes to recognize Ukrainian had an 'i' that Russian does not) as well as the fashion, the faces of the people, the architecture, and the general sense of renovating, remodeling, rebuilding, and rejuvenating ...makes it all feel so familiar.

What is the name of this street anyway?

S2's watched pick up games of Dominoes in the park, NS continues to search for bliny, and we all marvel at the height of the heels the women wear while walking on cobblestone streets.

We've stepped inside a few amazing cathedrals (one appeared to have a Hello Kitty balloon stuck next the the amazing ceiling fresco of the Virgin Mary), admired the outdoor handicraft market, and glanced at the outdoor book market.  Not very many books in English, but one title that stood out was "Pediatric and Adolescent Gynecology".  We saw students lining up for graduation, an informal,wedding procession, and a coin operated water fountain requiring every client to use the same glass.  And lots of tourists...just not Americans, and not Western Europeans.  

We had breakfast at Centaur, lunch at Casanova, and our dinner plans include a stop at Three Broomsticks, complete with a full-size statue of Harry Potter out front.

Dinner just got very cool for the Harry Potter fans on the trip.  We settled on Dragon Meat, Lupine Salad, Butter Beer, Magic Potion, and Pills for Levitatio (claiming you can fly after you eat it).  We might get some photos.....

And one for my father

And are these the coolest cafe umbrellas (outside the Opera House)

Time to head back to the train station and try to sleep between officials looking at our passports!

Tomorrow it will be sleep and the drive back to Slovakia...it is time to do laundry.

Oh,  and KO ... NS is up to 33!