UKRAINE May 2014

UKRAINE May 2014





May 20


Oh my. Here we are. The border into the Ukraine. Will it be difficult? First through the Polish customs and then through the Ukraine customs and check point...it takes a lot of time. The facilities are new, not quite finished. Please, can we see the person in the back seat, we need to see your face, as the officer compares it to my passport. “Why your going there?” He has an incredulous look on his face...like...Are you nuts? And still another window to wait in line for...car papers. All the usual questions...but he tells us that he is from Philadelphia... “Have a safe trip.” We have a short visit with a German fellow who speaks American English. He is escorting some traveling young Americans into the country... two missionaries from Chicago and Texas, stationed in Germany. “We feel like God is leading us here for our week off.”





So we have made it into the Ukraine. Gas is a bit over $8 per gallon. We have no money and relying on our credit card until an ATM shows up. There are some very lavish religious grottos by the road. We pass an old couple traveling by horse and cart...clippity cloppity down the road to the tune of the horses shoed hoofs.


Scotch broom, it seems that it grows everywhere with a vengence. Pea patches and sheds in a big field...with fully growing gardens. An old man and his wife lead their black and white goats through a glade, packs on their backs and staffs in hand. Much of this ride to the closest city of L'Viv is through forest on a very straight and new highway. We can't read road signs. Absolutely no English. Field crops are in orderly strips. Churches are tall and domed with gold, the gate and bell towers are separate. All the folks are out in their sunny 6:00 pm gardens.





A sign points to L'Viv. But another sign points in a different direction. Maybe it doesn't matter. It is a city of 820,000. Cobbled streets. Is this the city's old town that we have heard about? Yes! We are near a scrumptious catherdral. Tall. Tall. Tall! We find our sleep spot on a shady residential street, a nice big chestnut tree protecting us. Let's ask that fellow across the street if it would be okay to camp out here. He is the owner of a yellow 1985 VW van that has a sticker on it...CAMEL ARIZONA. “Yeh, yeh. You can park here.” The neighborhood folks look as they are moving about in a normal manner, but what are they thinking? Putin fooling around with their progressive country. This area used to belong to Poland and lots of Poles still live here. We walk the main street close-by and end up seated at an ourdoor cafe with a beer until dark.





May 21


This neighborhood is a good place to call home. The days are very warm. I change to sandals, a T-shirt and roll up the cuffs of a pair of light weight pants. As we start out for the day of exploration, a grandmother and her granddaughter walk past us. The little girl is singing to her grandmother, a lovely little voice. She has a long reddish ponytail, her skinny legs dance under her short skirt. It makes us smile. We are excited for this day to unfurl itself.





We walk all day. What a wonderful city this is. We pass St. Christopher's Church and the Polytechnical school on the way down the hill. The streets are busy with young people. We take a short cut through a big old park. The terrain levels out as we walk toward the old town and stop at the Ethnographic Museum. It is a museum devoted to illustrating the basic life of the Carpathian people; farming implements, clothing, wood carving, furniture etc. We stop at the inticing museum shop and begin to talk with an employee. He tells us that the people of the Ukraine are Slavic; not Polish, not Russian! We talk of problems the country faces today. It is his opinion that the Crimea was never Ukrainian...he can live without it! “But we must keep our country. We lean toward Europe. We do not belong with the Russians.” There are many hand-decorated eggs in the merchandise, a tradition of 1,000 years. One of these eggs is very large and sits in a spot where it can be seen and reached easily. In this country's history there is a legend about a nasty man whose spirit was put inside some special eggs that were decorated with symbols designed to rid evil. Citizens would touch the egg and at the same time wish for the disappearance of this person. He did disappear! The egg is back! Putin is the target! We put our hands on the egg and wish as hard as we can! There are other hand-made treasures in this shop. As I look up I see a little blond ceramic angel flying happily, smiling at me. Oh my, that is Deb! I must have it. David agrees!





We now enter Rynok Square, the very center of town. The plaza runs around the large city hall, Greek style fountains at each corner. Two sides are wide and popular hang-outs. On all four sides there stand historical buildings “like a rich layer cake of neoclassic architecture; rococo, baroque, Renaissance and Gothic”. It is so spectacular that it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1998.


It is impossible to find any soviet essence anywhere!





Lunch time and we choose a shady spot, away from the sun's hot rays. We are across the street from the Gothic exterior of the Latin Cathedral. Parts of this church remain that are of the 14th and 15th century. We note the cannon ball that hangs on a chain off a corner of the cathedral roof...it failed to penitrate the walls during an historic battle. Foot traffic keeps us entertained, an excellent traveler's amusement.





Our guide book is pretty excited about the 14th century Armenian Cathedral so we head there. It sits in the Armenian Quarter just off the square. WOW! A completely different take on a church interior. A soft, wonderfully colored space. Art Nouveau decoration and wall paintings, simple and beautiful. A place to sit and be still. Outside the sanctuary is a placid private courtyard of archways and short buildings, giving off energy of another time. Very special. I am so glad I came here.





We step into St. Georges, to a mass in session. A nun is singing in a soft, fragile, sweet voice. A voice to make you pay attention, with a bit of a feeling of awe. This is not the voice of a professional, but the voice of a simple woman, doing her job for this day.





A woman stops us in the street. “Where you from? You know our country has big problem. We are very worried.”





Another cold drink. We are thirsty and tired. We hail a cab that looks like it might not make it a block, but it chugs slowly up the hill like 'the little engine that could'. 50 uah...about six dollars. I am pretty sure we paid more than the locals. He let us off on the main street because we were not sure where our car was parked. It took us a few blocks of walking round and round to find it. 6 pm. Still very light in these long days of late spring.





May 22


Today, we leave this fabulous city. We did not expect so much beauty, history, industry and culture that is kept alive and well:


Economy...machine-building, instrument engineering, chemical industry, light industry, glassware, chinaware, timber industry, printing industry and tourism.


Education...8 National Academy of Science Institutes, 40 Research and Engineering Institutes, 17 higher Education Institutes,


Culture...9 theatres, 20 museums, 119 libraries, art galleries, philharmonic societies, organ music hall and circus.





Most streets are still cobbled. Bump, bump, rattle, rattle. Sidewalk markets, mostly selling produce. The goods are layed upon the sidewalk. Just find your own place and sell... no permits! Ah, the good old days. We are lost in our attempt to get out of town. Gypsy is of no help. We stop to ask...only Ukrainian language. Some scruffy but friendly tire guys draw us a map. They try hard. So sketchy. Useless to us. But, “Thank you.” More folks gather to try to help. It is all so useless. But Gypsy comes through with a pink road! No other streets or roads...just the pink one...so we follow the rolling ball.





Little children are adorable. Beautifully and carefully dressed. Hats and polished shoes. Flowers in girls' hair.





Now we stop to ask for a gas station. On a piece of paper a fellow draws a cute little gas pump with the name WOG beside it. 2 km with an arrow pointing. There are lots of street cleaners, both hand and water-truck. Old equipment is in working order. We head north on highway 17. Flat lands and low rolling hills. We are watching for signs to Rava which should take us to the Polish border. Gypsy tells us that it will take us 2 hours and 15 minutes to get to the Polish town of Lublin. Isn't that remarkable! Travel made easy. Sunny skies. Coolish breeze. Ukraine has proven to be a place to come...lots of smiles and thumbs up and shaking of heads in disbelief... our camper and its American licence plates. Otherwise we would be traveling unnoticed and many special connections would never happen.





We are now on E372. It is a good road. Country ladies in their everyday skirts are peddling their bikes to market. Back into those great little villages. Ooops! Cop stop. “Are you from Canada? USA?” Big smile. “Go ahead.”





So many Russian monuments show up along this route. Apartment buildings that might have belonged to coop farming. A stork walks along the roadside...seems a bit out of context. The dreaded border is not far away. Time to fill up with gas and do a little shopping to get rid of our 'uah' currency. I cannot find bananas in the store. In this area of not much English being used, it helps to draw the item so they know what you want. Their faces change from confusion to big eyes and smile. We notice a posting on a telephone pole in Rava...'Young girl wishes summer baby-sitting'. As we are close to leaving the Ukraine a sign pops up in English...SEE YOU AGAIN!





THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:


> Historically, modern Iran was Armenian.


> Anteka means pharmacy in the Ukraine.


> A drunk comes up to us. “I'm an artist- can you spare me one American dollar?”


> A boy is trying to sell some tiny fresh perky wild daisies that he has picked and craftily bundled in twine...into a short thick round bouquet, quite attractive.


> “Example is not the main thing in influencing others. It is the only thing.” Albert Schweitzer.





> Many Europeans answer the phone with “Hello”.

ROMANIA continued...and Hungary into Poland, May 2014

ROMANIA continued...and Hungary into Poland, May 2014

May 6 - 7

Our day begins with a problem...I lock us out of the camper. Jozsef makes some phone calls and a trusted friend comes to help. We have one side sliding window that is open a few inches. He slides it open as far as it will go and takes the screen out. A long stick is found and a 'V' shape is cut into one end. This is extended to the button lock on the door. He slips it around the lower, narrower part of the lock button and yanks upward. It works. Now you know how!

Jozsef cooks us eggs with vegetables chopped into them and Reka sets out the usual array of meats, cheeses and cut up vegetables. Coffee and polinka of course. And before we know it, it is lunch time! A most spectacular meal. Dinner for lunch. Pounded and tenderized chicken pieces have been placed on the bottom of a baking dish with a cream and cheddar topping poured over. Hungarian slaw, thin sliced potatoes and cake that is to die for...a yellow cake with a cocoa sugar top and a layer of walnut cream in the middle. What a lazy day! Our next event...naps!

In the evening we drive into Barot to the Party Pub for pizza and beer. Here we see Atilla and 'little' Reka, our hosts son and daughter-in-law...and Csaba, another son who sits with his soccer team for a beer after practice. Suzun, Caba's wife, is already in bed. She has an early morning job to get up for. I love to follow the lives of these young people. Both sons have moved into Barot...only 5 miles away from Felsorakos, more action here, more fun, more interesting. Atilla is now on the town council. A daughter lives in the United States. We are sleeping in Daisy...our choice!

The treat this morning is the sound of the cuckoo. Not a clock, the real thing, but sounding just like the clocks, which is the only cuckoo I have ever heard. Storks are everywhere. We say goodbye to our friends at around noon and begin to weave our way through the carts and horses and the little villages we love. Fields are being planted by family members. Oh my, these roads are bad. So sorry Daisy, we are doing the best we can. We stop to let a funeral procession walk by, all people in black, men first, women behind. It is very quiet. Then a gold robed and black hatted priest walks past, singing the scriptures. Next a gleaming wood casket is being quided on a cart. The procession goes from the back yard of the deceased, where a service has been held, to the graveyard. Somber and beautiful.

Snow topped Carpathian mountains lie ahead as we move west into new territory for us. We are on E6013 to highway 4. It takes us a long time because we are dodging potholes on the dirt roads so we stay the night in a fair size town, Fagoras. Darkness has not yet fallen so we have time to explore. We are by a park, a fort with a mote and a large orthodox church. David thinks the outside downward stairs of the church must lead to the toilets, but he walks straight into a service in session! Sooo, why not sit and and watch awhile?

Tonight is movie night in the van. Three episodes of Pride and Prejudice.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> All of us are where we are today because of the generations before us, each generation climbing on the backs of the one before...building, building, building upon their knowledge and skills.

> I am so thrilled to learn that the women of Felsorakos have formed a quilting group that meets every Thursday night! Quilts we brought from America are being finished...hand-quilted on some quilt frames we left with them. Reka is putting a quilt together that she has taken a pattern from Debbie Mumm's CREATIVE WOMEN book. Some of the ladies work on other projects, also. The older ladies like to crochet colorful seat pads...others embroider kitchen towels. Another project yet, is hand-stitching traditional Transylvanian patterns on to bookmarks.

May 8

Many folks out this morning, walking, biking, sitting on park benches. The church is really busy. As people walk by they make the sign of the cross on themselves. Priests wander in the crowd, dressed in long black robes, black purses and black flat-topped hats, long beards. Friends stop friends, share a bag of nuts while chatting. Taxis line up, waiting their turn for the next customer. Their prices are not expensive. It is a good way to travel. The Carpathian mountain range surrounding us is outrageously stunning. Repeated ridge and valleys. High and white, We are planning to visit Samvata, Monastery Brancoveanu, one of communist leader Ceausescu's follies. He built a home for himself and wife Elena on the grounds. We find the complex beautifully kept. It houses 35 monks currently. All of this is richly supported and it shows. Originally the monastery was built from 1688 through 1714 by Prince Constantin Brancoveanu, considered the last bastion of orthodoxy in the area by the Germans who destroyed it. So it has been rebuilt. There are beautiful paintings, some new, some brought back to a bright new life. There are entirely too many depictions, paintings and sculptures of Christ on the Cross for my comfort. I find it creepy. I always have the feeling that I need to...'get out of here!' An alarm sounds in me! Too many rules to follow, made up and enforced by who?...and all accompanied by fear tactics. I won't be kissing the hand of a priest...as you can tell!

Our plans to drive to a cable car to take us to a lake in the mountains are cancelled. Weather has socked these mountains in, there will not be a view, so instead we head toward Sibiu. We come through villages of Romanians, Transylvanians and Romas (gypsies). The latter have little huts behind fences but I would catch quick glimpses of tiny wood homes and neat gardens. A mother and her four children are hauling a huge bag of collected plastic bottles on a bike, making a bagged shape of about five feet long and bulging at the sides. Other peoples' throw-aways...an honest way to make a little money. In one of the towns I watch a young girl climb inside a dumpster in the middle of all the daytime hub- bub. Honest shopping. Cartisoara, a town on our route, is a lovely place of picturesque homes, painted and textured. Population 136,000. In the evening we arrive in Sibiu, big, bustling and beautiful.

May 9

I stay home today. Dizziness and a cold. David spends his day in the city center. There is a long shopping street given over to pedestrians only, and three squares that interlock...all this above a lower residential city. A forested park, used constantly, stretches into the city. In our adopted neighborhood where I spend the day, there are lovely gated homes, the style is a norm in Europe. I love this. A bit mysterious. I often find myself peeking through the cracks of fences and hedges to steal a bit of their beautiful privacy.

I sit and write in dappled sunlight, parked immediately next to the more natural outskirts of the park, used by bikers, walkers and joggers, doggies and their people. The scene is a large grassy field with a stream flowing down its center. A church is at the end of it. Bells have tolled from its steeple this morning. A cuckoo bird call becomes a bit monotanous, a blackbird warbles like a robin. David arrives home to tell me of his day. Once more those now-familiar words come to the forefront...”We could live here!”

May 10

Wind, a cooling welcome. David leads me back to the main city that he explored yesterday, starting with one of the park trails through the woods. Our first stop is a great book store with an English language section. We are in need of some good reading material. For me, the author Hislop who I have enjoyed before, and David chooses James Joyce. It is late on a Saturday morning and the pedestrian street is busy. Many fists hold ice cream cones or rounds of sugared breads. We enter the first square. Mare, by name, the largest one. The old architecture is impressive. Massive buildings. French influence, medieval and carpenter gothic that looks somewhat like a Victorian style.

This is an old Saxon town founded on a former Roman village. It is a romantic town for sure, rated 8^th in the world by Forbes Magazine for top cities to live in and visit. Money Magazine rates it in the top ten places to live. A cultural capital of Europe. So there you have it! And to us, though a bit off season, it does not feel like a tourist trap. So much space for the citizens to enjoy. Two other squares are attached to the main pedestrian one, Mica and Hvet.

A visit to the art gallery today, was a bit disappointing, lots of dark portraits of people I really don't relate to, but important to the town history. The other favorite is hunting paintings, you know the kind I mean...bloody game piled up...rabbits, fish and birds, maybe a gun and a proud hunting dog. Of course, during the time of these paintings hunting was at the forefront, feeding the villagers or the castle staff. There were exciting paintings by women artists that I really did relate to. And I made a list of others I liked: Theodor Pallady, A White Vase (Boules de Neige) against red striped wallpaper with big subtle flowers and quiet green/ Vasile Popescu, Table with Tea Set, wonky and lovely/ Alexandru Ciucurencu, Still Life with Flowers, simple and quickly done in great colors/ Arthur Coulin, Peasant Woman from Barsa Land, lots of fabric patterns painted in/ Nicolae Tonitza, Head of a Child, lots of decoration in the background. But, where are the contemporary artists? We see no evidence of this as we wander the streets. We pop into a small space titled 'Exhibition of Light', an intriguing draw...turns out to be mostly about candles.

Time for a really excellent sandwich and a beer, at an outside table...always a lovely break in our day. We walk back to the van and spend the rest of the day relaxing in our little home. Reading, knitting, talking. Dinner; stir fried green beans, onions, chicken and peanuts. A police car buzzes by. Okay, let's move for overnight!

May 11

This morning we are greeted with, “More coffee, guys?” It is Mitch (Mircea Lotrean). We are parked by his house, a lovely home built on the side of the park. He lives alone here. But once, for quite some time, he lived in California...hence the American name 'Mitch'. Here is his story:

In 1989 the Romanian people killed their communist leader , Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife. Germans left the country in a panic. The economy plumeted. Mitch took his wife, a step daughter and two sons, to Germany, then Canada, then California. His wife left him soon after, for another man who was already married but he married her anyway! She found out about this small detail and put a restraining order against him...but in a rage he came and shot her dead, and, with another shot, paralized her daughter. (True!) Mitch attended college for four years, and also learned the business of building. He came back to Romania and used his updated skills to make a very successful business. His forte was something new...on top of the ugly communist apartment buildings, he built a floor of new modern apartments under a 'mansard' roof. The old became attractive and were sought after. Needless to say, he made a huge bundle (He drives a $129,000 Porshe Sedan). In the late morning we thank Mitch for his wonderful hospitality and continue on to the Romanian city of Sebes then a gothic inspired town of Deva. Spires and prickles and pointed arched windows.

Whoops! A speeding ticket! $25. A nice chat with the policeman...with a bit of a complaint from us that maybe he could give a foreigner a warning instead? His dialogue went like this. “I would not be a policeman in the U.S. because of the use of guns. I see it on American TV and movies. There are no 'warnings' in our traffic laws. Speeding is the first cause of accidents in this country. These laws come from the government who tell us what they want (crooked government). We are just policemen carrying out our duty. If I gave you a warning, at tomorrow's meeting I would be given two days off without pay.”

We slowly and carefully make our way back out on to the road. No more tickets, please. A lovely path we are on. Perfume from the flowering trees wafts through my open window, maybe mock orange? Other blooming beauties; elderberry, ocean spray, wild white lilac, country roses, heavily laden snowball bushes cascading over fences. A woman works alone in a cut hay field, building hay stacks. Old couples sitting on roadside benches and chairs, watch the passage of cars and trucks and horse-drawn carts. Such a sweet tradition. Always makes my heart get big. We reach the city of Arad and park beside a church.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> “Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.” Thoreau.

> European cities are way ahead of us for embracing the importance of people places, providing parks, trails and bicycle paths. I do think we are catching on in North America, though. Let's put the daily life of people first! That support will show up in everything we do.

> “If we do not want to allow the world to sink into chaos, we must release the love which is trapped in the heart of all humans.” Nikos Kazantzakis, from the book by Victoria Hislop, THE ISLAND.

> If you travel overseas, join SERVAS and do your part to be good ambassadors!

May 12

This morning we spend a good amount of time on the computer, planning a side trip to St. Petersburg, Russia. The Hungarian border is close, on 'highway' E68. As we usually do when entering a country with different currancy, we stop to spend our remaining Romanian lei on gas. The border town is Nadlac. Trucks are lined up here for many miles taking up 2/3rds of the road, taking it down to a narrow lane. We pull over when oncoming trucks and cars need to get by. A quiet impersonal 'get-it-done' border and soon we are in Hungary. Red poppies everywhere, spreading out into the fields. What a happy flower!

Mako, a smallish city, known for its outrageous baths. “Hagymatikum'' a spa in the city center. It's architecture is crazy and fun...a mix of old styles into the new. Pointed and rounded tops. The interior is even more weird and wonderful... lacey white 'stillagmites' reaching to the ceiling and domes of glass and sculpted colored strips reaching upward. The city is famous for its therapeutic mud which has a favorable effect on arthritic and gneumatic complaints and which can be found at four other points in the country.

Next, Szeged, larger and very nice. Hungary is definitely in better shape than Romania or Bulgaria. We drive on E75/M5. Egrets in the watery fields. Pleasant flat- bottomed fluffy clouds. More red poppies thickly adorn the fields. A soft blue sky builds to a darker hue. We put on a CD with a 'road beat' as we head toward Budapest, which we will not visit this time (We have been there often). Locust trees with long boughs hold on to dirty white spent blooms. And we find ourselves in God and Szod, then Vac which is just north of Budapest. (Susan, a rowing skull is heading up the Danube. Jean, Dragon boaters are getting ready to push off.)

What a lovely place this is...another 'I could live here” kind of place, maybe even the top of the list. 33,000 population. Across the Danube is unspoiled bushy green banks. A quiet promenade rambles along our side of the river. A river otter sighting! We walk the small streets and squares to the old town center...St. Michael's Square. Charming! Here we find a crypt housing 18^th Century mummified bodies. Lovely baroque buildings, Gothic cathedral, Triumphal Arch. We meet Connie and Steve from Toronto, Canada. Steve grew up in Vac and is here to sell his late mother's house. Connie grew up in Brasov, Romania. We find a small parking lot to spend the night...next to the Danube. When we awake in the morning we find that drivers have very carefully parked their cars around us so that we are not disturbed from our sleep!

May 13

The plan today, is to cross the country of Slovakia with the goal of reaching Poland (No more border crossings...we are in EU 'land'). Another day of sunshine and pretty rural views. Peonies and Iris. We have the longest spring season, making our way north as we are. Spring started as we left Cyprus...and it is still with us! Chestnut trees are in full bloom...you can hardly beat that! So massive, so many white flowers. Glorious vistas to make one's heart soar.

Peasants. Hmmm. It seems to me that the life of a peasant can be so very rich and real. The laughter of children. The wash on the lines. Plain clothing, no fads to chase. Simple fresh food. Gardens and fields. Goats. Big extended families. Traditions passed from generation to generation. Maybe it just looks alluring from the outside? We are driving through such a place. Everything is rich and alluring to our eyes...even the slew of old buses not running but still smiling! Villages of old old wooden houses still in good shape. People proudly live in them. Podbiel ...sits on a river. It is a UNESCO world heritage site. Tiny many shaped little buildings. Traditionally shaped roofs, barn style roofs, roofs of hat shapes crowning the sweet homes. (The best are on 5A/E77)

A big snowy mountain range to our right guides us north through the border of Poland. It is 5:15 and rain 'spits' on the window shield. We notice a popular house gable style that we have not seen before. Large long gables with multiple windows all in one. We first steer our course to the ORANGE phone store to buy a wifi dongel for Poland. This time it is pretty easy...in a mall on our way to Krakow. Here we are advised to go to Wieliczka by the salesperson. We usually follow up with these suggestions. The locals know.

Poland is exciting and progressive. The Poles love their war-torn country and are proud that they have stewarded it in such a positive direction. We can feel it and see it. The people are great, so relatable. The salesperson loves her Poland and plans never to leave. Her home, she says, is a pretty village a ten minute drive away.

Before we move on we must get some money from an ATM. Polish zloty. ($1=4.5 zloty) ...and we are off to find Wieliczka and its famous salt mines. Both Gypsy and the two of us are totally lost. Round and round the heart of town, never finding our way in. Let's unplug Gypsy and try to do this intuitively... and it works. Time to park for the night and we find a pay lot reserved for Rvs. It kills us to pay...and it kills us to fall into that category!

May 14

It is a rainy grey day. Umbrellas needed, nobody without. We spend the morning trying to finalize our trip to St. Petersburg. We need a 'letter of invitation', a visa, reservations for a hotel and a train. We have decided not to drive. Too many stories about crooked police. We are unsuccessful in making anything happen. Frustrating. So we eat lunch and head out to the former salt mine, Kopalnia Soli, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. One million tourists a year! The mine started in 1250 and ended its working life in the early 1990s.

We go to the creepy depth of 350 meters (1,000 ft.) into chambers and pits, one step at a time on stairs! Ahh, but this is a very special place. The minors and hired professionals have decorated almost every inch of it, all out of handworked grey rock-salt. The most important is the 'Chapel of the Blessed Kings', measuring in meters, 54 x 17 x 12 high. Other decoration includes statues of important people and religious figures and knomes! Chandeliers and alter pieces. Poland's most beloved 'home boy', Pope Paul, once stood in the cave chamber church where his statue stands. It is warm down here! I thought we would freeze.

I tired of some of the mediocre sculptures but learned that three of the miners became professionals...just out of their love for the process of making the art, plus from volunteering their talent. They were the lucky miners. And here is an interesting fact; as the solid rock-salt faces were tampered with, methane gas escaped. This created a special job for some of the workers. With long torches to reach the lighter than air gas at the high ceiling level, they would set the gas on fire which would clear the air with its explosion, thus making it safe for the miners. The torch bearers wore soaking wet 'uniforms' so they themselves did not catch on fire. Another fact to think about...working horses lived their entire lives underground.

My opinion? Yikes, let me out of here. I have seen enough. But the remaining thought stays with me. That line. “They had to work in the salt mines.” I do understand a bit more about that but I would have liked to hear more about those fellows, the sweat and tears. I did not hear answers to some of the questions I had. What did they use the salt for? How was it formed? What was the process from start to finish.

Back out on the earth's surface, three hours later, we walk home in the rain. We had walked 2 1/2 miles underground, and saw only 2% of the mine's passages. As I write we are eating peanuts and preparing a dinner of pork chops, potatoes and spinach.

May 15 & 16

Oh my, it is still raining hard and non-stop. We stay where we are. David working on the St. Petersburg problem and me planning our trip from Poland to Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. By now, we know what we like to see and visit. Architecture, photographs and paintings, maritime venues, painted churches, mosaics, folk and naïve art and sometimes we are quite surprised by our choices...like a great toy museum. The day slips by in the lullaby patter of rain on the roof.

In the morning there is still a skyfull of rain dumping its cloudy buckets. Finally it lets up a bit and we choose to take our chances and walk along the path by the local commuter electric train. We have heard its crazy silly whistles, sometimes sounding like an animal giving out an interrupted cry. It startles us each time. The trail leads to little parks presenting wonderful fun sculptures then into town where we find ourselves an elegant restaurant. I order Old Polish White Borscht. It is fantastic. David is not sure what he ordered but it is Polish and quite agreeable.

We have contacted our Servas friends in Krakow. We will meet them at 2:00 tomorrow. So again, this evening David works on our St. Petersburg adventure. It is sounding less and less like an adventure. Why must such arrangements be so hard? We are spending more than we ever do on this... on the three hour return fast train from Helsinke to St. Petersburg. A very expensive 4 star hotel that we are unable to downgrade. Three days...this better be good! We know that we will not be back this way so we 'bite the bullet”. Ahh, but still we need to apply for visas. (Join Servas, there are members in St. Petersburg who can invite you and the stay with them is free.)

At two o'clock, not on the dot, with much traffic and directional difficulty, we meet Barbara at the Loza Cafe in the main old town market of Krakow. We are late! We last saw her in 2011 and have such good memories of these lovely gracious people...and here is Barbara! A costume and set designer. She sits in the window with a cup of coffee waiting patiently. An artist, she wears fabulous black with gentle red and white short hair. Mid 60s. A very large black oval ring is on the middle finger of her right hand, paired up with a wide black leather bracelet studded with silver. She wears nail polish only on the fingers of one hand. We will not have much time with them as they will soon be gone on separate business forays. Dinner tonight.

Barbara leads us to her studio...very close to their apartment. Wait a minute! This is not her studio, it is a studio apartment that they own and we are being given it for for a few days. It is a more than wonderful gift, basic design and color by Barbara of course.

At 5:30 we buzz their door button and climb the stairs to the sixth floor. Jan (professor and theatre director) is home so we enjoy talk and French wine and a lovely meal...pasta, salad, lucious French cheese with crackers, chocolate truffle with banana and strawberry slices drizzled with a liquor. Their home is so unlike the modern studio apartment we are in. It is filled with a collection of their lives. We discuss Putin and his grand aims on the Ukraine, and the big possibility of him wanting his 'empire' back to what it looked like before the 'Cold War'. He has recently been seen on TV as playing the emperor's part. Golden doors open, he walks down a red carpet. This would take him back before communism. Feels more like Royalty, the Emporer of Russia?

We ask...What countries besides the Ukraine, would he 'take'. The answer, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. But, I say, Estonia is already using the euro? There minds are in the west, like Poland's. The others have signed on to the EU program, telling us all where their minds want to go also. Question marks. ??? This part of the making of history could be both exciting and dangerous.

At 8:30 we leave for our apartment. Jan has some writing he needs to attend to, in support of a theatre person applying to become a full professor. This affidavit will include comments on this person's accomplishments in his chosen field. Jan says that it is 'a very long road to deserve the title of professorship'. Barbara and Jan are warm and kind and smart. How very fortunate we are.

May 18

Today we travel to Krakow destinations by walking, bus and tram. Instead of breakfast we grab a favorite food, a spicy kabob! Salty. All day we drink water, coffee and beer. We find the Schindler Enamel Factory Warehouse (of Schindler's List), the real one that is now a museum. It is full of impressive artifacts and information on the Nazi occupation during WW ll. It takes a goodly amount of time to go through all the very interesting displays...always with the thought of the people who were fortunate to be linked with Schindler. In one small dark room, a Nazi uniform hat sits on top of a podium...only the hat is lit. I am unable to get that visual out of my mind. I am old enough to remember. In a photo we see Nazi soldiers, cutting off beards of the Jewish men. And an original 'tankette' the 'cutest' little 2 crew Polish reconnaissance tank, armour thickness 3 to 8 mm armed with a machine gun. Their duty was to provide reconnaissance and back-up and sometimes infantry support, the later prooving unable to stand up to the heavy artillary of the German forces. So many things to see and think about.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> “If I had to put up a poster for every seven Poles shot, the forests in Poland would not be sufficient to manufacture the paper.” Hans Frank

> “ In April of 1944 when the Jews celebrated Passover, a holiday established to comemorate the Exodus from Egypt, the bricklayers began to build a wall around the ghetto. The torturers shaped the wall like tombstones. They used the symbol in advance, thus rendering into a mass grave that piece of land inhabited by a dozen or so thousand discriminated human beings.” doctor Julian Aleksandrowicz

> “I suddenly realized that we were to be walled in. I got so scared that I eventually burst into tears.” Roman Polanski, aged 8

> “Until this morning, what I still had was confidence in the Poles, now I don't even have that. I have been to Krzemionki today, where I was passing by bricklayers, and they took some lime and sprayed me with it. I had plenty of lime in my hair, on my dress, all over my head, arms and legs, and that lime burnt my skin. And those bricklayers laughed. It's really bad to be a Jew.” Renia Knoll, aged 14

> “The ghetto has four huge gates, and through these gates we are not allowed. It is strictly prohibited. The no. 3 tram passes up and down the main street. We are not allowed on the tram. It is strictly prohibited. That is why the tram never stops in the ghetto. Once a boy tossed a few loaves of bread through a tram window to our feet.” Roma Liebling, aged 5

> “...right across the wall, across the gate, it is a different world. That world is also tormented by war, yet in a way it is also free. Out there children go to school, and adults work, stroll along the light streets or the Planty, visit exhibitions, listen to the bugle call sounded from the tower of St. Mary's Church.”

Halina Nelken, aged 17

> “Daddy works at the Liban's quarry. When he returns from work he often gets a nosebleed, apparently from exhaustion; he's become very haggard. My brother works at the Bauminger's nail factory in Grzegorzki. My mommy has the best job, she works at the button factory on Agnieszki Street.” Stella Muller, aged 8

> “Ania occasionally managed to get hold of some milk, cheese, eggs – the products we were slowly beginning to forget. Ania would not say how she made it through to the other side of the ghetto, past the armed German posts and the Jewish and Polish policemen. We knew what awaited those caught escaping or smuggling. Yet how can one raise children, Ania would ask, without a single glass of milk?” Maniusia Weinfeld, aged 13

> On June 8^th, 1942 (just days after I, Lou, was born) all people in this ghetto who had not been issued with a special 'blue card' were deported. The 'June Operation' left over 7 thousand Jews from Krakow killed in gas chambers.

Close by is the Krakow Contemporary Museum. The main exhibit is focused on crime violence...not an easy one to view. CRIME IN ART. These are the opening words that I read before proceeding. “Crime highlights fanaticism, helplessness, tension, feeling wronged and a desire for revenge. A criminal is someone socially abnormal. The criminal's deeds manifest the deformed realities of human conditioning. Art finds this predicament inspirational. Here, artists find hidden human impules, the struggle of justice against injustice, comprehensive experiments on our sensitivity and a perverse attractiveness.”

For me, the art was very hard to get involved in...it repulsed me so that I did not stay with it long. A necessary speculation on the subject, I admit. There was a piece about Ted Bundy, an electric chair formed into the hood of a VW Bug which he used to lure his victims to...and a photo of him dead, after execution. But further along I found something just for me!

An exhibit on magazine photos is set up in a smallish room. Walker Evans caught my eye immediately. This man had taken photos of bits and pieces of walls, like I do! In the 1930s. It was rather exciting to see that someone else had the same or similar eye as myself. The compositions were so alike. The curators remarks: “The pocks and scrawls of abandoned walls recall the style of certain contemporary paintings, with , of course, the fathomless difference that the former are accidents untouched by the hand of consciousness. Paul Klee would have jumped out of his shoes had he come upon the 'green door' below (My favorite). The courage, purity and gaiety of these scarlet shots in violent green space would be applauded by all the Klee audience.”

By 7:00 pm we were really hungry. We took a tram to meet Barbara at her home and then another tram to town (3 stops) and found a Japanese/Thai restaurant. Very tasty food. Polish cheese cake for dessert, light and 'cakey'. At the next table sat a group of twelve from Cinncinati. A tour of Jewish folks connecting with their roots and history. Laughter and talk swirled around and among them. At our table we were having a serious conversation with Barbara. Her grandfather was one of the first to be killed at the very beginning of the German/Jewish troubles. The German's targeted the intelligencia, the most educated, the professors. But he left his legacy of travel to Barbara.

> Words of English in phonetics that work for the Polish: Biznes, Ekspert, Kredyt, koordynator, toalety, tranzyt. Makes sense to me!

> “Your whole life is research.”...written large, outside the Museum of contempory art (MOCAK TEATR).

> Maki. A Polish name meaning red poppies.

> Along our travels we come to a busy intersection. A pedestrian walking bridge is high above us...a full circle that reaches every corner with stairs to the street.

> In the region of Podkarpackie there are amazing wood homes, reminding us of the Arts and Crafts era, but with the richly different flavor of Eastern Europe.

> The Fart Market. No kidding! Perhaps it means farm. I hope so.

May 19

Before our day can start we have to find our car that we left in the center of town a few days ago! A bit of a trick! We get on a bus and try to recognize familiar places. Success! Then we study a map to get out of the city in the direction we want. East on A40 / E44 headed for Ukraine. On a tip from Barbara, we stop in Rzeszow's old town. A huge square at its center has an ancient well and freshly painted buildings in a mixture of many architectural styles. Lovely. A concert of voices of seven men, accompanied by two guitars, reach across the plaza from an upper balcony, a customery Monday afternoon event. Black suits and white shirts. The harmony is fantastic, we stay through two sets. Couldn't understand a word.

Folks here are vital, moving about their days. Well dressed. Rezeszow has a university and much industry, though it does not come across as 'industrial dirty'. There are parks and bike lanes. Everywhere it is clean. We are by forests here, and agriculture. These are not the folks that match the joke, 'How many Poles does it take to change a light bulb?' If you and I can change a light bulb, certainly these people can. They are like brothers and sister, so much like us.

David picks up some tourist material on this area. It is called the Podkarpackie region and is the furthest south east section of the country (like a province or state). In one of the brochures we see a picture of a Basilica with a huge baroque pipe organ. It is 6:30 pm, but we don't want to miss it. Route 877 NE to Lezajsk, takes us along rural roads and small towns. Log houses still pepper the area. Lots of bicycle use. David comments on the moment; “...a road like this, in the spring, at this late daylight...” The moment is exceptional.

At the road edge, benches are lined up facing a small chapel that is lit up and flowered. Open front alter, no doors. Folks are sitting on the benches, maybe a dozen people. What is the occasion?

We find the huge basilica. It is dark and time to 'turn in'. We will visit tomorrow.

May 20

This late-Renaissance Bernadine basilica of the Observant Order is famous for its graceful and miraculous painting of Mary and Son, Jesus...called 'The Madonna of Lezajsk'. It is stunning! The clothing and crowns are tightly jewelled...only the face and hands of the subjects are free and clear to see. The pipe organ is the oldest in Poland and one of the biggest in Europe. Founded in 1610, the church is worth the pilgrimage for many. Statues and paintings are incredibly beautiful. Gold leaf, filigree...unbelievable. The epitome of Baroque, every inch decorated and painted. The frescos are all light and airy so that the basilica does not feel dark and gloomy.

Worshippers sit quietly below the Madonna. Monks in brown and roped robes wander the courtyard.

Thank goodness we did not miss this mecca of beauty. As I explored the interior, it came to me that the gold leaf paintings of this time were the inspiration and forerunners of Gustaf Klimpt's decorated style...dots of jewels and gold leaf flourishes. Flowing robes. But he used modern faces and ideas. The painter Hundertwasser, may have also taken an idea or two from this era.

This small town also has a most important Orthodox Jewish cemetery enclosing the grave of one of the most important people in the hassid movement, Caddik Elimelech Weinsblum.

We leave Lezajsk and begin our trek to the Ukraine, through the town of Debno

which is skirted with Pea Patch Gardens and little cabins like we saw in Europe. Four girls in shorts are walking a dusty road, old school friends, maybe family? I would like to hear what they are talking about. All the yards and gardens are beautifully kept. A tractor is pulling a covered platform which is 'manned' by three people who are feeding a wheel. Planting potatoes?