4/17/08: Exploring Lviv

Lviv surprises me at every turn. These streets just aren't what you expect in a struggling, Eastern European country. The streets are clean, chess is being played in the park, kids laugh, the buildings are in good repair. I was hassled mercilessly by gypsies in Berlin, but there wasn't a beggar in sight here in the city center. With the constant reminders people gave me about the country, I wasn't expecting this.

Then I turn a corner.

This is the Lviv I was expecting to see, but it now came as a shock. These buildings should be abandoned, but families still live in them. The streets have been torn up, and no one has bothered to replace it. Despite the disrepair, it was still relatively neat and tidy. There wasn't any trash on the streets and people tried their best to keep the decaying buildings looking as nice as possible. It was another one of those times when looking at another culture brought mine into sharp focus.

I walk up to High Castle Hill, where there was no castle but it was a wonderful vantage point to look down upon the city.


To the south I could see the tops of churches and buildings both old and new.

To the north were the scars of Communism. Block housing rips haphazardly through the landscape and in typical Communist fashion there was little regard to aesthetics.

Unlike in Poland where the block housing is decorated with bright colors and shapes, it stands unapologetically as a testimonial to the country's history.

4/16/08: "Don't Worry"

We are given a form to fill out detailing where we are going, who we are, ect. I leave the where I'm staying part blank. I'm not sure what I should put or how strict they'll be. I'll be in a hostel this evening and the next, but then I'll be with couch surfers. I'm a little nervous since I'll be leaving a different way than I came in, so I'm not sure what to write.

The woman comes back and in broken English tells me to write in where I'll be staying. I try to explain that I'm not sure what to write, that I'll be traveling around the country, staying with couch surfers. At this point I'm so flustered I can't even think to mention that I'll be staying at a hostel this evening.

"Lviv! Lviv! Hotel Lviv!" she starts yelling at me over and over. I quickly scribble this in while a smattering of snickers comes from the back of the bus.

After the border guard leaves, I leave the bus and meet two CSers. They ask me if I still want to find a bathroom and I get my first taste of Ukrainian life. They are students from Poland and two of the most fantastic people I've ever met in my life.

We still have a long wait and a long ride ahead of us, so she offers to help me find a bathroom. I get another taste of what life is like in Ukraine when we run into a very drunk customs guard who points us in the direction of toilets we are allowed to use. At this point I really don't know if I should laugh or be terrified.

"Don't worry," Klaudia tells me. This would be a phrase I'd hear a lot of this day.

Before we enter the bathroom she warns me about it. It's a squat toilet and not the cleanest one either. She tells me most of the toilets in Ukraine are the squat kind. She gives me a few pointers for successful peeing then waits for me outside.

I walk in and am immediately hit by a wall of stench. I don't want to mouth breathe because I don't want anything from the bathroom in my mouth. Not even microscopic things. I breathe shallowly and do my best to hurry. Everything in the bathroom is wet, so I'm also trying to maneuver around without making contact with any surfaces. Suddenly my mom didn't seem so paranoid when she uses a tissue to touch anything in a public toilet. I'd have done the same, but my backpack was on the bus which contained my emergency supply of kleenex. I decided instead just not to touch anything. I kicked open the stall doors with my foot until I found a suitable place to squat and didn't bother to close it. I was actually glad these were squat toilets and not the regular kind. It was easier to keep my body and my belongings safely away from the wet grossness.

I gave it the good old college try, but was unable to to make my trip to the dark, wet, stinking bathroom worth it.

On the way back to the bus, the CSers tell me about the bribery system here on the boarder. Drivers from "rich" countries, like Poland, are shook down. If the driver doesn't have any money, the border guard will take sausage, beer or anything else that strikes his fancy.

"Don't worry," says Klaudia.


After an incredibly long wait, we're on our way. The roads are scary. We barrel down this tiny, potholed road that is shared with pedestrians and tractors. In my experience, people in Central and Eastern Europe have an odd logic when it comes to driving. The smaller and more decrepit the road, the faster they drive on it. I remind myself that busses drive this road every day and I haven't seen one that's overturned and burned out on the side of the road. I'll be fine, and even if I'm not, there's not much I can do about it.

I distrace myself with the scenery and the conversation, which is easy to do. I laugh as my new friends tell me stories about life in Ukraine and I'm struck by the diversity of the scenery. We pass glistening, silver- topped Orthodox churches, midievel looking ruins, villages which are picturesque and others that are in shambles. Most of the signs are in Cyrillic, but a few kiosks sport signs with badly translated English.

As we are traveling, Kaudia points out the holes and hiding places people use to smuggle cigarettes. Cigarettes are dirt cheap in Ukraine and a popular way to make a living is to take these cigarettes to other countries and sell them.

We finally arrive in Lviv just after nightfall. The bus lets us out in front of the central train station which is a beautiful work of Polish archetecture and is surrounded by food kiosks. I help the CSers with their luggage and they help me buy a ticket to Ivano-Frankivsk, where I'll meet them in a day.

A man in his late 20's with a cut that runs from his mouth up his cheek joker-style stands behind me in line. I try my best to inconspicuously distance myself from him, but he just keeps moving forward (like people do when they are waiting in line). The guy is almost too surreal to be scary. He's wearing a paper-boy hat and clothes that make him look like he came right out of a 1920's gangster movie. The scar, however, keeps me from staring at him too closely. That's the kind of scar you can only get in a few ways.

The surfers helped me secure a ticket to Ivano-Frankivsk and now we were off to find my hostel. We hop on a tram that came from Eastern Germany circa WWII (don't worry), and off we go. We travel down cobblestone streets, past restaurants and night clubs. I have no idea what it will look like in the daylight, but at night Lviv was beautiful.

We get off the tram at the town square. Lviv's nightlife was completely unexpected. It was more like something you'd see in Eugene, Oregon, than something you'd expect to see in Eastern Europe. Young and old were hanging out, playing drums, there were fire dancers and everything was completely mellow. No hard partying, no craziness; just people enjoying life on a beautiful spring night in the plaza. I would have liked to have spend longer in the plaza, but the hour was late and I still needed to check in to the hostel.

We circle around a few blocks before Alexander asks for directions. The hostel is quite well hidden, but we find it. I get my keys and find out I have a room all to myself. The lady at the desk apoligizes for this several times asking if I'm sure I don't want to be in a more populated room. No, no I'm fine really. I only have one day Lviv and way too much to see. I need a good night's sleep.