We bring you Keppleman’s most recent dispatch – from the Ukraine.

Hello Hobogram recipients,

At times I feel as if I am auditioning for a sequel to the children's book "Where is Waldo?" since many of you consistently pose the question of my whereabouts. At the moment I am taking shelter from the rain in the center of Kiev waiting to board a train back to Moscow where, after a couple of days of catching up on sleep and washing clothes, I am off again for a three-week jaunt across Siberia on the multiple trains that make up the Trans-Siberian system. I have a short time to write before heading off again so allow me to bring you somewhat up to date.

Let me start with the pain part. My feet hurt. More precisely my ankles are swollen. Lesson learned: cobblestone streets may be attractive and help create the ambiance of long-past days, but they are murder on the lower extremities. So much for complaining.

Now the train part. When I had to leave Russia at the end of July because my visa expired, I had intended to travel to Belarus, Ukraine and perhaps Moldova for a month before returning to Russia for the Trans-Siberian trip. For the Trans-Siberian journey I had made all the train reservations from Moscow to Vladivostok including a trip to Mongolia. All I needed was to acquire a new multi-entry visa which I was assured would be no problem of getting in Ukraine. Lesson learned: when you are told "No problem", expect there to be a problem. Everything started well. During the first train trip from Moscow to Kiev, I met a wonderful Russian man who spoke very good English. He had been working in Kiev and gave me a lot of assistance in suggesting places to visit and also showed me where to exchange money, the location of the consulate office and he even bargained with the taxi driver to ensure I was given an equitable fare to the hotel. 

From that point, I ran headlong into the quagmire of frustration. The events chronologically followed thusly: I first went to the Russian consulate office on the initial afternoon of arrival only to find it was only open in the morning. Next day, there I was waiting in line and after three hours I was advised that I could only be issued a single entry visa when what I needed a multi-entry since I would be entering and leaving Mongolia along the way.  Phone calls, faxes, e-mails to Russia trying to change the itinerary eliminating Mongolia took two days and the weekend came and of course diplomats do not work on weekends. Monday morning, in line again. 

The new itinerary was sufficient for the single entry visa but the office could only issue a maximum stay of two weeks. My problem was that I had booked a three plus week- long trip. All my sorrowful looks, pouts complete with quivering lower lip and, surprise of surprises, even offers of freshly minted rubles were of no help. More phone calls and faxes resulted in amended letters of invitation. Back to the consulate. This time all the paperwork seemed in order except the one blank page I had left in my passport was not acceptable because it was on the left not the right side. Soooo, off to the American consulate office for the third supplement to my second passport.

Of course by then the Russian consulate was closed for the day and so it was not until the eighth day in Kiev that I finally got the visa. Armed with new blank pages, I decided to try and get a visa for Belarus so I could at least visit that country as well as Ukraine before going back to Russia. After all, how can you pass up a country with cities called Minsk and Pinsk and my favorite: Brest. You want a visa? First you must bring a hotel reservation confirmation. Ok. Four travel agencies later, not able or unwilling to book hotels in Belarus. By this time, I felt as if I had been living in Kiev my whole life, so forget Belarus and see as much as Ukraine as possible. And so after taking twelve different train trips averaging 10 to 15 hours each and one excruciating 15 hour bus ride, I was able to see much of the country.

Which brings us to the final part: Ukraine. All I had really known about the country was that there had been a horrible nuclear plant accident in Chernobyl, that the English Charge of the Light Brigade had taken place in the Crimean War, the Yalta Conference was convened and that my grandfather was supposedly a Cossack somewhere here. My travel encompassed most of the historical places and a great many ancient towns (which accounts for the sore feet--remember the cobblestone streets?) as well as several cities. 

Each country seems to leave me with at least one generalized overall impression. In Turkey it is the Bosphorus; in Slovakia it is the Tatras; in Malta the memory is of limestone buildings, and so on. In Ukraine it is the color green--tilled fields and pastures with only the Carpathian Mountains interrupting the flatness and fruit orchards, vineyards and sunflowers acres providing splashes of color on the green canvas.

Kiev is a delight. When I first came, the main central street, Khreshchatyk, was filled with political party activity resembling military camps with tents, banners, posters and loudspeakers promulgating various positions. Now a month later, the camps have packed up since the political stalemate has been resolved when a new Prime Minister was finally selected. Unlike Nevsky Prospect in St. Petersburg, Kiev's main drag is relatively short. The secret I learned is that there is really a city under the city with most of the shops nestled below the street in subterranean malls complete with food courts. 

There are wonderful buildings all around the center and parks string along the Dnieper River with scores of churches, monasteries, monuments and catacombs. Kiev is cosmopolitan complete with its own Metro, elegant shops and restaurants and lovely young women who promenade along with bare bellies, low cut tops and high heels strutting with self-confidence. But there are also Romanian gypsies with babies galore begging for money and hawkers who offer to let you pose with a monkey, owl, snake or hawk.

From Kiev I headed south to the Crimea with visits to Simferopol, Yalta, Sevastopol and Foros. Excursions to the palace where the Yalta Conference was held, the castle called "Swallow's Nest" perched on a cliff and other palaces, wineries, fortresses and ancient Greek ruins supplemented the days of plunking my toes in the Black Sea. Those who are aficionados of sandy tropical beaches would not be pleased with the rocks and concrete where the sunbathers spread their towels in these resort towns. But most of the tourists seemed to be Russian and they did not mind at all as long as there was sun and water. I then headed west to the city of Lviv whose center is a UNESCO Heritage site with marvelous churches and restored buildings. 

If most of the tourists in Crimea were Russian, most tourists in Lviv were Polish, reflecting not only the proximity of the countries but the historical occupation of this portion centuries ago. On to the peaceful city of Odessa and then down to the southwest cities of Uzhgerod and Mukachevo --fortresses, castles and cobblestone streets with many residents with Hungarian backgrounds, again reflecting the neighboring borders.

Central Ukraine favorites included Chernivtsi and the city of Kamyanets-Podilsky where the cobblestone streets really took their toll. Chernivtsi is called "Little Vienna" and the beautiful parks, squares and grid street pattern following the foothill slopes of the town as well as the lovely buildings are attributed to the Hapsburgs according to what I read. The main attraction of Kamyanets is the preserved fortress and surrounding old city and, yes, cobblestone streets.

There were many other towns and cities including Poltava in the east that were interesting but enough is enough. Some brief observations that I noticed during my stay here: Ukrainians speak more Russian than Ukrainian. As a matter of fact, the east and Crimea in the south appear to believe or at least hope that they are still part of Russia which seems in part to be the root of a fragile political system wherein some favor ties with the west and the others reunion with Russia.

The bars and cafes found everywhere attest to the fact that Ukrainians love their beer but they also love ice cream and sunflower seeds. On trains and buses time is often spent playing cards or doing crossword puzzles and there is a mixture of local, Russian, American and British music on the radio; one of their popular music groups is made up of three young beautiful women going by the name "Viagra". Their food is very filling but also very fattening; most everyone I met was friendly except for an occasional grump; and what seems to becoming an exception to the rule, they do not hate the US. I met some great people, mostly cabin mates on the trains.

They were very tolerant of my incessant questions and to a large extent they made the trip wonderful. They suggested places to visit, hotels, restaurants, and most importantly they shared their views on their life and that of their country. On at least three occasions, these new friends had not spoken English for several years and they struggled to remember words, but somehow meaningful communication found its way. 

I could go on but I just wanted to give you a flavor of this trip. Hopefully I will have something of interest to write to you at the conclusion of the Trans-Siberian journey and maybe by its conclusion I will finally have my fill of trains. I blame my zest for the rails on my father because when I was a very young boy I remember one specific time when I traveled alone with him on a train from New York to Florida. Whether it was the train itself or the memory of having my father all to myself that makes traveling by train such a pleasure for me I will never know. Sometimes we don't need to know I suppose; just enjoy.

So, take care and thanks for still staying with me after all this time. I find it hard to believe that we started this continuous trip almost seven years ago. With due credit to Robert Frost, I still have miles to go (and a few more countries) before I rest. As always, please take care.

Keppleman