A Journey in the Dark

TOP 3 best (omni) restaurants

1. Khevron, Odessa, Ukraine
2. Café Pushkin, Bakhchisaray, Ukraine
3. Rustic, Baia Sprie, Romania.

TOP 3 worst border crossings
1. Lithuania – Belarus
2. Belarus – Ukraine
2. Ukraine – Romania

TOP 3 most English spoken
1. Lviv, Ukraine
2. Vilnius, Lithuania
3. Sighișoara, Romania

TOP 3 accommodations
1. Casa Olarului, Baia Sprie, Romania
2. Hunting House, Kujbyshevo, Ukraine
3. Hotel Telecom Guest, Vilnius, Lithuania

TOP 3 most impressive cities

1. Minsk, Belarus
2. Odessa, Ukraine
3. Lviv, Ukraine

TOP mammals
1. Cow
2. Dog
3. Horse
4. Goat
5. Chicken
6. Cat
7. Sheep

Bonus mammal:
+ Donkey

TOP birds
1. Pigeon
2. White Stork
3. Sparrow
4. Western Jackdaw
5. Barn Swallow
6. Rook
7. Hawk

Bonus bird:
+ Peafowl

Achievements unlocked
⭐ Drove through the Carpathian Mountains during thunderstorm
⭐ Swam in the Black Sea
⭐ Sat in the chair of a missile base command centre
⭐ Saw the elusive city of Minsk
⭐ Bribed a police officer in Ukraine
⭐ Climbed the Potemkin Stairs in Odessa
⭐ Saw a white stork in a nest on the roof of a house
⭐ Saw a flock of bats flying over us on a dark forest road in Transylvania
⭐ Visited a crypt in Transylvania

Cases of blatant animal suffering witnessed
😡 a man striking a horse hard with the blunt side of a pitchfork (Bonțida, Romania)
😡 multiple cases of tying horses' legs together (to prevent them from wandering away, one assumes) in Ukraine, Moldova and Romania; saw two horses hopping down a road with legs tied in Romania
😡 dozens of strays everywhere, the majority of them ill and/or malnourished
😡 dog strongman contest; the animals were made to pull very heavy loads, and kept alone in small cages inside cars. Judging by the picture in the event poster, the dogs are pumped with steroids. (Gmina Wasilków, Poland)

Things the border guards inquire after or search for

- girls, tasers (Ukrainian; Belarus to Ukraine)
- petrol (Polish; Ukraine to Poland)
- gifts for guards/Finlandia vodka (Ukrainian; Ukraine to Romania)

Craziest drivers:
Kiev (Ukraine)

Best roads:
Belarus and Poland

Most white storks:
Romania

Most Hesburgers:
Lithuania

Easiest hotel to find:
Vila Chesa, Romania

Most difficult hotel to find:
Vilari Guest House, Ukraine

Most horse carts:
Romania

Most strays:
Ukraine

Coolest museum:
Strategic Missile Forces museum, Pervomais'k, Ukraine

Most insane memorial:
Dzyarzhynskaya Hara, Minsk, Belarus

Best cemetery:
The cemetery of the Church on the Hill, Sighișoara, Romania

Best overall service:
Ukraine

Best starry sky:
Crimea, Ukraine

Greatest bird density:
Belarus

Lushest lands:
Middle Ukraine

Most epic memorial:
Батьківщина-Мати (Mother Motherland), Kiev, Ukraine

Most impressive church:
The Church of the Saviour at Berestove, Kiev Pechersk Lavra, Kiev, Ukraine

Highest temp 30°C (Polish-Ukrainian border, day)
Lowest temp 13°C (Kujbyshevo, night)

I love the smell of mould in the morning, especially when it's right at the level of my nose.

We tour the old Lviv on foot, merely scraping the surface of all the things this city has to offer. Flea markets, alleyways, churches, marketplaces, parks, palaces, museums, cobblestone, pavement, statues, monuments, townhouses, manors, old and new, from 18th century to 21st. Nearly everything about the city speaks more West than East to me, but with a twist that's completely unique. It's too bad we're constantly in a bit of a rush.

Crossing borders to Poland takes quite a while, apparently because at one point they completely forget about us and we have to go knocking after our passports to get going.

Poland is mostly what I remembered, and bears a striking resemblance to most of Ukraine. Fields, towns, fields, trees, fields. I leaf through the Polish part of a phrasebook and find the pronunciation actually mostly doable. Mostly.

Today seems to be the official get-hitched-day, since both in Lviv and in Poland we spot couples (with entourage) and cars decorated with pink ribbons and/or balloons.

Driving in Poland is surprisingly uneventful. Roads are in mint condition, straight, and traffic is low. I'd be bored if I wasn't thankful. It comes to mind that actually, with these roads and what most houses and other buildings look like, Poland is starting to look a lot like Germany, probably due to EU standardisation. S.O. says how this seems to be the EU's agenda—to make everywhere like Germany. And that sounds kind of familiar... Well, my only wish is that they never pass a directive limiting the appearance of bus stops.

The only hotels available in Bialystok, the originally planned cite of accommodation, are four and five stars and therefore far too expensive, so we booked a cheap hotel at Gmina Wasilków some ten kilometres north of there. Arriving at Nad Zwelem proves easily the single most surprising experience of today; there's a dog strongman—strongdog?—contest going on right here on the on the grounds (this facility serves both as a shabby hotel and a camping area). Dogs bark and people shout and cheer and laugh drunkenly. It's not exactly a nightmare, but something very close to one. Our room is silly-shaped and very big, and the bed springs have definitely seen their better days. The dog contest seems to know no end, the barking continues, and it's nearly midnight. Posting this tomorrow at dawn when we leave for Tallinn, because the Wi-fi only reaches the common areas and I'm dead tired.

We leave Târgu Mureș with slightly damp clothing (I think they forgot about our laundry at the hotel until this morning), heading towards Baia Mare via the following castles:

1. Kemény Castle, Jucu de Sus
2. Bánffy Castle, Bonțida
3. Kornis Castle, Manastirea

The winding road takes us through villages; some people are dressed traditionally, and a particular fashion seems to be a wide-brimmed hat, some kind of a suit, and a gigantic moustache. More sheep than before, and nearly as many horse carts as there are cars. In Râciu we drive past a strange little parade with schoolchildren, people of all sorts carrying large crosses, and the flags of Romania and EU. At nearly every crossroads is a small shrine-like construction, usually complete with a colourfully-painted crucifix.

Fields here aren't as lush as before, as the more fertile grounds are past us and also it's clear that the most powerful agricultural machines and tools aren't available here.

Those EU flags really are everywhere. Clearly displaying some serious EU pride here.

As a huge herd of long-haired goats nearly leap in front of our car, I realise I may have mistaken them for sheep earlier. Definitely seen sheep too, just probably fewer than I thought at first.

Kémeny turns out to be both small, boring and off-limits, but Bánffy of Bonțida is interesting. Its construction was started in the 1500's and finished two centuries later. After years of neglect, all the buildings are nearly ruins, but they're reconstructing it now—there's builders hanging around and about the place. There's much to do, but both what's left of the original and what they've already built is looking mighty fine.

Kornis Castle is nothing more than a ruin, but a particularly attractive one for one detail: the old gateway is guarded by two unicorn statues. Yes. Unicorns. With the horns made of steel and hence mostly intact. Next to the castle ruin is a neglected mansion, probably dating back to the mid-19th century, with two horses grazing on the yard. Tall pines, broken windows, caved-in roofs and tall columns all together give a slightly haunted feeling.

It starts raining when we get back on the road for Baia Mare. Passing a nasty-looking accident. The road's good, but it matters little if you're driving recklessly.

Our hotel, or guesthouse, for tonight is Casa Olarului, a potter's house, and as picturesque as they come. Father and I go scouting up the nearby hills, to find out about a curious-looking spot on the topographic map. It turns out to be pasture for the most part. The way up is incredibly beautiful, dashing through a thick forest of tall, slim, bamboo-like trees, on an old stone slate road. We run into some Italian tourists while up there, beyond a mine and a skiing centre. I'm further away taking pictures, but apparently they're quite the travelers—they've been to Finland, and to Turku, even.

The grande finale for tonight before bedtime is a restaurant called Rustic, which lives up to its name and is strangely in line with the aesthetics of our pensionat which, by the way, we have entirely for ourselves.

Tomorrow we'll be leaving Romania for Lviv, Ukraine.

We went for a drink (and ended up doing some grocery shopping in a 24/7 market) after midnight in the very sleepy Chișinău. Monday is, unsurprisingly, not the busiest night of the week.

The hotel apartments were quite comfy, apart from the little maggot friend I found in our bed. Meh, as long as there's Wi-fi.

Moldova is very rural, most of it fields and cows and goats and tractors and hills and vineyards and fantastic landscapes wherever we go. (Other animals: ducks, dogs, chickens, horses drawing carts or grazing, various birds of the Corvus family, one family of turkeys, and very infrequently, sheep.) A friendly billy goat I'm trying to photograph nibbles at my hand with its flabby lips. TomTom is firmly of the opinion that there are no roads here. Radio plays energetic folk music and international hits.

Crossing borders is relatively easy, and roads improve immediately.

România is beautiful, what can I say. Plenty of houses look brand new and people look well off, if a touch surly. Mushrooms and other goods are sold by the roads. Horse carts aren't uncommon, and there are lots of wells in every village we drive through. Towns and cities look and feel very different, chaotic and grungy but interesting and occasionally also very impressive. Churches, shrines and monasteries are everywhere. Here and there they fly the EU flag together with the Românian flag.

There's a storm brewing as we reach the Carpathian Mountains, but so far only one ruin of a castle sighted. The lightning strikes inside a cloud a few times, rain pours down on and off, thick mist blankets the tall pine trees and nearly touches the ground, and I can't remember the last time I was so overwhelmed by the landscape. Words simply fail me. The moment I saw the mountains I knew I'd always wanted to see them. Transylvania, a (mild) storm, some bats—only the castle is missing.

This part of Transylvania is partly Magyar; most signs are in Romanian and Hungarian.

We stop by a large field to admire the rainless thunder light up the entire sky. (Yes, there are pictures.) Hope we'll still get inside the hotel at this time of night, with all these delays...

This hotel is the only one we've been to that advertises itself well ahead, so it's laughably easy to find (unlike a few others); just follow the huge sign and the flashing neon lights!

The star pictures turned out alright. We clambered a small hill to get a good view over the village and the mountains. Also woke up every guard dog along the way, and witnessed a return home by taxi and subsequent argument between (presumably) husband and wife.

Khan's Palace is half bewitching, half disappointing, the former because it's quite large and ornamental, with many different buildings and rooms to inspect, and the latter because it's packed with tourists, and because it's been rebuilt so many times there's precious little to see of the 17th century it was originally built in. The Fountain of Tears is there, though, with a Pushkin bust beside it. We dine at Café Pushkin—we're more or less dragged there by an enthusiastic local fellow, but the cozy terrace and hanging vines have us at hello, anyway. A very zen stray cat approaches our table, promptly jumps into dad's lap and settles there, only moving when he gets up.

The narrow street's completely blocked by a tourist bus and a herd of cars, so we try taking the long way round, only to discover that the only way through the village is via said blocked Lenina St. so we just waddle through like everyone else.

The drive to Odessa is uneventful, apart from driving a little too fast before a bridge; playing the foreigner's ignorance card and paying a fine (20€) settled the matter nicely. Starting to get a real taste of Eastern Europe...

Godsdammit the Tactical Missile Museum was worth every hryvna. Not only were the tactical vehicles, heavy machinery and missiles outside incredibly impressive, but we also go to go inside the actual base, walk the cold concrete tunnels and climb ladders and cram ourselves into a tiny lift and end up in the bloody command centre itself, 35 metres below surface, and there was the red button of doom on the keyboard of doom, blinking lights and switches to flick, and we got to sit in the actual seat where the komendant sat. The guides were old military guys, which was very apparent from how they spoke and behaved, but under there they suggested all kinds of cool photos we could take (by speaking Ukrainian and waving their hands a lot)—and boy, did we.

As soon as we left the missile museum, we were taken by a massive rainstorm, and knowing the locals would be about as safe to drive among as nuclear warheads, we took a small break by a flooding petrol station. Heading south now. A hailing strikes, too, and we wait some more.

Lightless cars bug us severely, and surpassing lorries proves difficult at times. Slowly but steadily, the vegetation shifts from very familiar to familiar to slightly strange, and at times the landscape greatly resembles northern, rural Italy. Indeed, the word 'rural' describes the southern part of Ukraine quite precisely, as the vast fields (sunflowers, wheat and corn) are only sparsely punctuated by little villages, and in them, people selling goods on both sides of the road. Stray dogs wander around nearly every petrol station and market stall, crows and hawks fly over our heads, and butterflies flutter on and beside the road. There's a hillock with a numbered door in the field every now and then, presumably a bunker. The golden light of the setting sun forms a ukrainian flag together with the perfectly blue sky.

A few close calls happen with the traffic, specifically after nightfall in Sevastopol', where we also see the aftermath of a small car crash.

A vigorous search, consulting the map, and several language barriers later we arrive at the small village of Kujbyshevo near the mountains, our destination for tonight (and the night after that).

This hostel is incredibly shabby. What better way to start a day than a dry shower and a toilet that doesn't flush? Yes, there's currently no water in this damn hostel.

Amazingly enough, there's yet another raw restaurant available, and even our omni company likes what they've got. After that, we plan a little, and walk through the city centre to the Dormition Cathedral to see the cave monastery. Unfortunately, we arrive too late, and take a stroll around the historical site around the cathedral instead. It's hot day, and we're all dripping sweat, walking up and down the old stairs and ramps around the monastery gardens. Sister buys a traditional embroidered shirt. Failed to buy a card. Still haven't sent any cards, but I promised, so I shall.

We loiter around town, and visit a high-end restaurant called Whisky Corner, and confuse the very polite and orderly waitstaff by ordering silly things like fries and fruit. The fruit plate is huge (700g, they always state portion sizes in menus here), and I'm given a fork and a knife. So there I am, in a fancy ukrainian whisky restaurant, cutting mega-sized grapes in half with a knife and fork, marinated in a whole day's worth of sweat and dust, feeling like one big exclamation mark.

A random guy asks us for light, then pot, but we haven't got either. Back at the hostel, I'm happy to notice the water's back. We'll try the caves again tomorrow, as well as The Great Patriotic War Museum and adjacent previously mentioned ginormous statue, called Mother Motherland.

11 hours of sleep. We have breakfast at the incredibly picturesque hotel yard.

Driving through the sleepy Vilnius towards the border, we spot plenty of construction work, and notice how the roads worsen the closer we get to Belarus. Just before the actual control we're told we need an entry ticket from "a yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow wagon" one kilometre back—this turns out to be a tiny construction shack slightly off the road. A young guard hands us a small ticket without saying a word.

Waiting. A crucial document is missing, so we have to go back, (queuing on both ends for approx. 2 hours for nothing) and arrange so that we get the bloody paper delivered from Finland by tomorrow afternoon. We get a proper old-fashioned road map, since TomTom only recognises two roads in the entire country of Belarus. Sister, brother and dad get to go cross through, eventually, and travel ahead to Minsk; our visit there shall be brief.

My S.O. and I go find a hotel wait for the delivery. We wander around Vilnius, shooting pictures in old town, and find an excellent raw vegan restaurant—just think of that!—where we dine ourselves silly on soup, sushi, lasagna and pizza. A short trip to a local supermarket/ shopping centre, then back at the hotel. Lithuanian TV is in no way more interesting than I expected.

Tomorrow we'll just hang around until the letter arrives, queue at the border for hopefully no more than two hours, and meet with the rest of our troupe at Minsk; then we drive through the white spot on the map of Europe that is Belarus, and spend the next night and several days at Kiev.

* Miesten vaatteet = mieheksi ja/tai maskuliiniseksi itsensä identifioiville ihmisille suunnatut valmisvaatteet

Motiivi: tyylin päivitys ja aikuistaminen

Näkökulma: henkilökohtainen estetiikka, toissijaisesti yleisempi tyyli ja muoti

Lähtökohta: maskuliininen presentaatio

Havaintopaikat: Stockmann, Carlings, Dressman, satunnaiset

Uhat:

Kauluspaidat ovat ruudullisia. Kaikki. (Yksi pilkullinen. Pilkullinen!) Ne, jotka eivät ole, ovat haahon värisiä.

Tummansininen, vaaleansininen, tummanpunainen, vaaleanpunainen, beige, harmaanruskea.

Yksittäiset hyvät värit yhdistetään järjestään karseisiin väreihin.

Pikeepaidat.

Merkkivaatteet tunnistaa siitä, että ne ovat jonkun merkkisiä. Merkin on esiinnyttävä vaatteessa mahdollisimman suurin kirjaimin kirjoitettuna ja mieluusti monessa paikassa. Tokihan haluan antaa ilmaista mainosta vaatemerkille - ei, ei ilmaista mainosta vaan peräti itse maksaa siitä, että saan mainostaa vaatemerkkiä. Mainitsinko jo, että merkkivaatteessa merkin on oltava koko vaatteen pointti eikä muuta suunnittelua tarvita?

Villa ja nahka. Selkeä yliedustus. Etenkin villa.

Mahdollisuudet:

Laadukkaat materiaalit. Kankaat keskimäärin naisten** arkivaatteita paksumpia ja kestävämpiä.

Järkeviä(kin) leikkauksia. Tarpeeksi pitkiä hihnoja ja lahkeita. Tarpeeksi tilaa laskeutua (myös istuvissa leikkauksissa). Poislukien telttamallit.

Kiistaton maskuliinisuus. Yleisellä tasolla tämä on myös kohdassa "Uhat".

Naisten vaatteet = naiseksi ja/tai feminiiniseksi itsensä identifioiville ihmisille suunnatut valmisvaatteet.