The marshrutka ride wasn't nearly as pleasant as the train ride. It took us through the ugliest parts of Ukraine. Plains that made Oklahoma look picturesque, decrepit homes with metal roofs that could have been in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and the worst roads I've ever been on.
Once we arrived in Lviv city center, Alecander led us down streets that looked like World War II aftermath.
He wanted to show us a small store with Yiddish and Polish writing.
On the way to Lychakivske Cemetary, Klaudia pointed out a proto-vending machine. For 25 gryvnia you can use a communal cup to get water. 50 gryvnia gets you "juice" of some kind. Worried about hygeine? Turn the cup upside down and give it a quick water rinse.
One block before Lychakivske Cemetery is the Polish- built medical school. You could easily imagine 1950's medical students hurrying to class or studying on a bench underneath a cherry tree.
Lychakiske Cemetery was studding. Hills haphazardly piled with gravestones greeted us.
We made our way around the paths until we came to the Ukraineian memorial to its fallen soldiers in the war against the Poles.
While it's beautiful from a distance, as you approach it, you can see the price that was paid to have this memorial so close to the memorial for the polish soldiers.
I wondered how many bodies lay under the memorial and how many graves were disturbed to build this monstrosity. What was even more infuriating was there was a grave-free site less than 100 meters away. The Ukrainian government tried numerous times to have the Polish memorial destroyed, the Poles even had to rebuild it it a few times.
The Polish war memorial, now hidden behind the Ukrainian one, feels more like it was built to honor the fallen soldiers.
After the cemetery, we wandered around the city seeing the colorful, traditional dress worn by the locals for Easter. After seeing the ancient Armenian cathedral with it's haunting murals, we went over to the BDSM themed cafe, Masoch.
While it was cute and tastefully done, I was taken aback to see people bring their small children inside. I couldn't imagine what would happen if a child happened to stop to look at the wrong picture.
The waitresses wore their traditional shirts under their leather corset uniform. It was an interesting clash of cultures. The coffee was strong and the salads were DIY. The meat and veggies came on a wooden chopping block with a hole in the middle, elevated over a bowl of dressing. You chop up your meat and veggies, then dump them down the hole into the dressing bowl. When we were finished, our check came to us in a high-heeled shoe.
After that, we wandered the streets, were chased by an old woman who heard Klaudia's Polish accent, and searched (with no luck) for an open grocery store. We boarded a painfully slow tram to the train station. They waved goodbye as I boarded my first night train.
As I entered the car, I realized the woman at the train station had sold me a third-class, not second-class ticket. I was struck with fear at first. Lonely Planet had warned people not to use the the third-class cars. The train was also packed. I traded with someone for the top bunk and I surveyed the carriage to see if I'd have to stay awake the whole night or if I could sleep. I quickly realized that everyone was decent, if not totally drunk, and that Lonely Planet had greatly exaggerated the problems with third-class.
The temperature on the train slowly rose as we traveled through the night. At 6:45 the next morning, the thermometer claimed it was 73 degrees, but it felt like it was over 90. It was also very muggy in the train, making it extremely difficult to sleep. By the time we reached Kyiv, it was allegedly 78 degrees, but I was boiling inside my skin. It had to have been over 100.
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