UZH
Depending on who you talk to, there seems to be different spellings to the town's name I'm hanging out in currently.
Everyone agrees on the first three letters, so I'll call it that.
This is because of the horrible Cyrillic alphabet which they stick to despite logic as America does to it's 'Imperial Measurement System'. Because humans are like that.
After leaving my friends in their little town and heading back to Kyiv (Kiev? Fuck it) I went back to the same hotel. "You should have me on file."
They told me I was lucky that I'd booked ahead as there were no rooms left. They checked my passport and said "We have your booking right here."
Struck me as odd because I'd made no booking - but fine, I'll go with it. Weird shit happens to me.
I started pulling out money but the lady announced the room was all paid for.
Nope, nope, nope. It could have been that they gave someone else's booking to me or that someone booked for me or they had gone crazy. I'll take a booking - but someone else's paid room? Even if I offered to pay it would end up with unhappy people getting there, passports compared and Logan getting the ole heave ho at some strange hour out of the hotel.
After checking the information the lady had I discovered that the "H" in my first name was where the similarities ended in the booking info.
And they have no space.
"Great - let me put my bags into your storage and please call me a taxi."
The whole reason I'd gone to Kiev as to get my passport done. I'd gotten to spend some time with my friends as a happy byproduct. So I wanted to head to the embassy to pick up my finally completed passport.
The embassy was about 20 minutes away and I discovered they were closing in ten minutes. Well, shit. So I had the hotel call (and put me on with) the embassy and I explained the situation and asked if someone would be around for an additional 10 minutes or so after close. Yes. Thank goodness.
So I rush out to the waiting cab, hop in and we set off to - oh. Well, shit. He wants to talk to me about Jesus. I always wish these people would head off to somewhere they could get martyred for their faith when they do that. It's a win win - they think getting martyred will get them into Heaven.
Where as I am thinking that it will not only get that person out of my face but raise the intellect of the remaining humans a smidgen.
But it didn't. He kept nattering on about his prayer did wonders. "But doesn't god have a plan for everything?" I asked. "Well, maybe not this thing." He responded. "I thought God knew everything - no?"
Oh the ego of the god botherers.
So I've just gotten off a three hour train ride. Found out I have no where to stay. Might be stuck in Kiev again. Might not get there in time to get a passport. And I have some guy trying to convince me that he can 'tilt' the inter-dimensional pinball machine by his actions. Sure god might already know what will happen - he just likes to hear you beg for it.
I jumped out of the cab (my version which is painful and slow) and headed up to the guard.
"Do you have an appointment?" asked the external guard.
"Yes. Yes I do." I said looking him right in the eye.
Eventually, I got in to the embassy - ten or fifteen minutes after closing time and a nice lady gave me my passport. Hurrah!
Headed back to the taxi. Thought about it a bit and had the cab driver drop me off at the train station. Even when I said it in Russian he seemed confused by it. And then when I told him "The one 1.1 KM from the hotel you picked me up at!"
"You want go to hotel?" Talking about Jesus had exhausted the finite quantity of his English.
"VOX-ALL!" I said sharply and loudly.
I got dropped off at the train station. I was in a fucking mood, I'll tell you.
It may be a Russian custom - not sure - but they have a window and only one person works at that window. They clutter up a good deal of the window with the notices of when that person will be on break. When that person is on break, the window is closed. Rather than being a bit more professional and having more than one person working per window, they close it intermittently. So you get lines of 20-30 people hanging out waiting for the person to get back from break.
So the wait began. After half an hour at last the lady could see me. She didn't want to see me. No Russian or Ukrainian, no interest. She sent me to a different window where the lady was...you guessed it - on break.
Mutherfucker, I thought darkly.
Eventually, I got to see the 'international' lady who didn't speak much English. A couple of important words ('seat', 'wagon', 'no dining car', etc) but why they called it international is a mystery. Maybe she just had more patience with foreigners.
Wanted a first class (12 hours!) ticket on an express train but I told her (asked and answered three times!) that I did not want a berth I had to climb up to. I don't climb so good. I'd actually be amazed if I can climb. Walking is often rough for me.
Though she kept assuring me it was a bottom berth, I kept thinking I was going to get fucked.
Surprisingly, I didn't!
Anyway, I had a couple hours to kill so I went and got dinner at a fairly fancy hotel.
Went there for this:
But ended up having this (because people were wondering why I wasn't having 'Chicken Kiev' while I was in Kiev).
Honestly - it was underwhelming.
After the couple hours of downtime, hoped back onto the twelve hour train ($20 to ride across the countryside!) and met some nice people. It seems that every train ride I go on, I meet people who speak English. Helpful and nice. Good deal.
Got a little sleep - but I've nodded off twice so far while writing this. Let's see if we can push through the rest real quick.
Arrived to morning rain in UZH. Tried to get a taxi to take me to a place that showed (on my dying phone) as 1.4 or so KM outside of the town center but he took me to a place that is over eight KM from the town center.
Meh! Tomorrow, I will try to be back in UZH.
A story of Logan in Ukraine:
So I'm out eating with my good friends when I said "Dirka".
Sergey: "You shouldn't say 'Dirka' to the waitress - it sounds like 'hole' (like 'fuck hole') in Russian.
Logan: "Oh my gosh I wasn't trying to insult her..."
Sergey: "I didn't think you were - "
Logan: "I was attempting to slander an entirely different group of people!"
Depending on who you talk to, there seems to be different spellings to the town's name I'm hanging out in currently.
Everyone agrees on the first three letters, so I'll call it that.
This is because of the horrible Cyrillic alphabet which they stick to despite logic as America does to it's 'Imperial Measurement System'. Because humans are like that.
After leaving my friends in their little town and heading back to Kyiv (Kiev? Fuck it) I went back to the same hotel. "You should have me on file."
They told me I was lucky that I'd booked ahead as there were no rooms left. They checked my passport and said "We have your booking right here."
Struck me as odd because I'd made no booking - but fine, I'll go with it. Weird shit happens to me.
I started pulling out money but the lady announced the room was all paid for.
Nope, nope, nope. It could have been that they gave someone else's booking to me or that someone booked for me or they had gone crazy. I'll take a booking - but someone else's paid room? Even if I offered to pay it would end up with unhappy people getting there, passports compared and Logan getting the ole heave ho at some strange hour out of the hotel.
After checking the information the lady had I discovered that the "H" in my first name was where the similarities ended in the booking info.
And they have no space.
"Great - let me put my bags into your storage and please call me a taxi."
The whole reason I'd gone to Kiev as to get my passport done. I'd gotten to spend some time with my friends as a happy byproduct. So I wanted to head to the embassy to pick up my finally completed passport.
The embassy was about 20 minutes away and I discovered they were closing in ten minutes. Well, shit. So I had the hotel call (and put me on with) the embassy and I explained the situation and asked if someone would be around for an additional 10 minutes or so after close. Yes. Thank goodness.
So I rush out to the waiting cab, hop in and we set off to - oh. Well, shit. He wants to talk to me about Jesus. I always wish these people would head off to somewhere they could get martyred for their faith when they do that. It's a win win - they think getting martyred will get them into Heaven.
Where as I am thinking that it will not only get that person out of my face but raise the intellect of the remaining humans a smidgen.
But it didn't. He kept nattering on about his prayer did wonders. "But doesn't god have a plan for everything?" I asked. "Well, maybe not this thing." He responded. "I thought God knew everything - no?"
Oh the ego of the god botherers.
So I've just gotten off a three hour train ride. Found out I have no where to stay. Might be stuck in Kiev again. Might not get there in time to get a passport. And I have some guy trying to convince me that he can 'tilt' the inter-dimensional pinball machine by his actions. Sure god might already know what will happen - he just likes to hear you beg for it.
I jumped out of the cab (my version which is painful and slow) and headed up to the guard.
"Do you have an appointment?" asked the external guard.
"Yes. Yes I do." I said looking him right in the eye.
Eventually, I got in to the embassy - ten or fifteen minutes after closing time and a nice lady gave me my passport. Hurrah!
Headed back to the taxi. Thought about it a bit and had the cab driver drop me off at the train station. Even when I said it in Russian he seemed confused by it. And then when I told him "The one 1.1 KM from the hotel you picked me up at!"
"You want go to hotel?" Talking about Jesus had exhausted the finite quantity of his English.
"VOX-ALL!" I said sharply and loudly.
I got dropped off at the train station. I was in a fucking mood, I'll tell you.
It may be a Russian custom - not sure - but they have a window and only one person works at that window. They clutter up a good deal of the window with the notices of when that person will be on break. When that person is on break, the window is closed. Rather than being a bit more professional and having more than one person working per window, they close it intermittently. So you get lines of 20-30 people hanging out waiting for the person to get back from break.
So the wait began. After half an hour at last the lady could see me. She didn't want to see me. No Russian or Ukrainian, no interest. She sent me to a different window where the lady was...you guessed it - on break.
Mutherfucker, I thought darkly.
Eventually, I got to see the 'international' lady who didn't speak much English. A couple of important words ('seat', 'wagon', 'no dining car', etc) but why they called it international is a mystery. Maybe she just had more patience with foreigners.
Wanted a first class (12 hours!) ticket on an express train but I told her (asked and answered three times!) that I did not want a berth I had to climb up to. I don't climb so good. I'd actually be amazed if I can climb. Walking is often rough for me.
Though she kept assuring me it was a bottom berth, I kept thinking I was going to get fucked.
Surprisingly, I didn't!
Anyway, I had a couple hours to kill so I went and got dinner at a fairly fancy hotel.
Went there for this:
But ended up having this (because people were wondering why I wasn't having 'Chicken Kiev' while I was in Kiev).
Honestly - it was underwhelming.
After the couple hours of downtime, hoped back onto the twelve hour train ($20 to ride across the countryside!) and met some nice people. It seems that every train ride I go on, I meet people who speak English. Helpful and nice. Good deal.
Got a little sleep - but I've nodded off twice so far while writing this. Let's see if we can push through the rest real quick.
Arrived to morning rain in UZH. Tried to get a taxi to take me to a place that showed (on my dying phone) as 1.4 or so KM outside of the town center but he took me to a place that is over eight KM from the town center.
Meh! Tomorrow, I will try to be back in UZH.
A story of Logan in Ukraine:
So I'm out eating with my good friends when I said "Dirka".
Sergey: "You shouldn't say 'Dirka' to the waitress - it sounds like 'hole' (like 'fuck hole') in Russian.
Logan: "Oh my gosh I wasn't trying to insult her..."
Sergey: "I didn't think you were - "
Logan: "I was attempting to slander an entirely different group of people!"
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