A Very Wet Day

High on our long list of ‘Must do’s’ in Krakow, also known as “The Schedule” was The Dunajec River Gorge rafting trip. We had planned to do it on the first day of good weather we had which according to the forecast was Saturday. The Dunajec river is the natural border between Poland and Slovakia. It breaks through beautiful limestone mountains, creating some of the most incredible, narrow and sharply winding gorge in rocks. It is considered to be the most glorious part of the Pieniny Mountains. We had high hopes for this trip and expected nothing but a relaxing day admiring the nature.

Agnes’ research said that it was a simple bus ride from the Krakow bus station direct to the top of the mountain where the rafting ride left. Therefore full of confidence, we decided to leave our apartment at noon. Unfortunately when at the station we looked into buses to the destination point, Sromowce Kąty village, there didn’t appear to be any. However after asking at the information point, Agnes found that it SHOULD be possible to get there by several buses but by no means guaranteed to meet every connection. We jumped on our first bus which was really just a minivan to a non-descript town, full in the knowledge that it was a gamble. After an uncomfortable one hour journey, we arrived. It seemed like our gamble had backfired – because it was Saturday there was no bus to Sromowce Kąty at all. We were running out of time; last rafting trip started at 4pm. Some more investigating followed and it turned out that there was a bus was leaving soon to yet another small town near to Sromowce Kąty where we could either walk a few miles to the departure point or hope a bus came along. We took this bus only to find when we got off it that the final connection had left five minutes before and the next one was over an hour away. We were stuck in a tiny mountain hamlet, with no shelter and not in the best of moods but surprisingly chirpy. The air was crystal clear, views to die for and that calming silence…

Fortune favours the brave, the bus we assumed had left five minutes earlier was ten minutes late and we grateful jumped on it to the rafting station and the end of an unexpectedly difficult journey.

The rain had stopped thankfully; we paid our 44zl and made our way to the water’s edge for the next ride down the river. I didn’t really know what to expect of the boat, what I did expect was it to be bigger and higher off the water! It was no more than 3 metres wide by about 6 metres long and riding about 30 cm off the water which wasn’t much in calm water, I wondered how much came over when we went through the rough water. We were actually lucky to be able to take the ride at all; regulations prohibit rafting rides when the water level is above a certain level which was the case a few days previous, today was the first day that the levels had fallen to a level which allowed them to take place.

Despite being very close to the sometime quite rough water and not wearing a life jacket we felt very safe on board the wooden boat and just relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. The raft man, called in Polish “flisak” skillfully navigated the raft down the river with a pole in a similar way that boats are punted along the river Cam in Cambridge; only the river is very wild in places. He did a pretty amazing job and it was clear to see why it takes six years to train to become a fully qualified Flisak. The Flisak trade on the Dunajec river is centuries-old. Originally, Flisacy used their wooden rafts to fish the once plentiful salmon in the river or to transport goods downstream.
Clad in a round-brimmed black felt hat decorated with small white cowry shells, a white shirt, beige slacks and a dark blue felt waistcoat cheerfully hand-embroidered with colourful flowers, our raft man easily sank a two-meter long wooden pole into the swirling greenish-brown waters of the Dunajec. Thanks to his extensive training he knew everything about the history and the environment of the area. He spoke only Polish which was fine for Agnes but not for the handful of non Polish speakers on the boat. She translated the most important and interesting stuff for me but the stunning scenery more than made of for the fact I couldn’t understand the commentary. The river crosses in and out of Slovakia through some of the most incredible scenery I have ever seen in Europe. It was nice to just relax and let the river carry us down for almost 2 hours. I couldn’t help but think what the ridiculous Health & Safety brigade in the UK would have made of the whole operation. Small wooden boats, with only a few inadequate life jackets for those who asked for them on board, no seat belts, no long drawn out pre departure safety announcements. It was pure bliss, a long standing tourist tradition with a 100% safety record in over a hundred years just allowed to get on with its business without interference from those who think they know best. The only incident they have ever had was someone jumping overboard and swimming to the Slovakian shore in order to escape to the west via Austria in Communist times. We could learn from this live and let live attitude.

It started to rain towards the end of the ride as we approached the end point at the spa town of Szczawnica. We were both starving so headed for a small restaurant where we bother enjoyed warm coffee and tea. We had no idea of what time the bus back to Krakow left so we made a beeline for the bus stop. After an uncomfortable walk up hill and after initially standing on the wrong side of the road we found a bus stop apparently going to Krakow. It made no sense at all, a bus was due, or so we thought but nothing arrived and we were left with an hour’s wait to the next advertised bus, not even knowing if it would arrive. We were now sheltering in a flight of stairs contemplating the possibility that we could be stranded in Szczawnica and that an expensive taxi ride would be our only option if no bus came. Thankfully it did and we settled down to 2 hour bus ride back to Krakow. Tired, uncomfortably squeezed but incredibly satisfied with everything we have seen and experienced that day.
That was the end of our first day and what a memorable one it was, for more reasons than one.

Krakow, good to be back.

My long awaited week’s holiday to Krakow with Agnes began with a very unsocial 0330 bus to Stansted from Rayleigh. What should have been a chance for a doze on the hours ride to the airport was rudely interrupted along the A120 as we were approaching Stansted by a driver of a car who had been flashing his lights and shouting at the driver to stop. I had been vaguely aware of the flashing was tried to ignore them in order to grab some sleep; I assumed with the flashing lights it was just a boy racer trying to pass but when the driver of our bus starting shouting back my interest was aroused. I heard the driver of the adjacent car shout that the bus’ luggage compartment was wide open as we were going down the dual carriageway. I watched the driver go visibly white and pulled the coach over to inspect it. Initially he thought he had got away with it but then a middle aged couple got out and realised that their large suitcase containing everything for a three week holiday to Spain had fallen out. Cue hysterical woman, shouting, accusations and general chaos at the side of a busy road at 0415. Poor sods, I had to feel for them.
On to Krakow, I found our apartment that Agnes had booked and waited outside as arranged for Pawel (Paul), the Italian owner’s Polish representative. Clutching an email that clearly said:”wait outside Radziwillowska Street, no 7 for the keys between 11 and 12” I waited, and waited some more. When it got to 1230 I finally called Pawel who said I should’ve called him on arrival! Sometimes even being organised and punctual isn’t enough.

Agnes wasn’t due to arrive until 1815 from Katowice so after a short nap on the sofa I went off for a short walk around the Main Square of Krakow, the Rynek, which I was looking forward to immensely. I hadn’t been to Krakow for seven years and it was one the highlights of a two month trek around Europe in 2003. Approaching the square along Mikolajowska Street to the Rynek several things became obvious that Krakow has changed a lot in seven years. Firstly the number of English voices I heard and the second, the commercialisation that has occurred. I felt back in 2003 that I was at the beginning of that era; now it’s firmly arrived. Signs in English advertising cheap beer, happy hours, and Premier League football were a sad indication that Krakow is no longer a mysterious well kept secret of Central Europe but a major and successful tourist hub. It is no less beautiful but when I first came here people came here for Krakow, its art, its history and architecture, now the majority of people come here for the cheap bear, lap dancing and nightlife.
When I turned the corner past Mariacki Church the memories of this amazing square came flooding back, the stunning medieval trading market Cloth Hall right in the middle, the Town Hall Tower just behind and the differently coloured facades of the building lining the square made me feel like I’d been here yesterday. I didn’t remember quite so many horse drawn carriages touting for business or numerous tourists reps accosting me selling tours but for the rest it was amazing to be back. I couldn’t resist a walk through Cloth Hall and a walk around the square before a text from Agnes told me that she’d be an hour earlier than planned, so I made my way to the bus station to wait for her.
She arrived sat in the front seat. Apparently the bus driver took quite a liking to her and Agnes quite cleverly used this to her advantage to secure the front passenger seat of the bus to avoid the motion sickness she suffers from. We just walked back to the apartment and our week’s holiday that we had been planning for quite some time had begun.

Back to Poland

All that was left for my final day was to retrace my steps to Poland and to go home, a travelling day. I posed for a photo wearing an old Soviet military uniform in the hostel and took a few photos, including an odd one of a portrait of Lenin on the wall which had his eyes obscured with a bit of black tape. The marshrootka back to the border was much more comfortable and I had a seat all the way.
I crossed the border with minimal fuss and waited for the minibus back to Przsmysl. It was here disaster struck although I was unaware of it at the time. Once back in Przemyl I went in search of a Polish post office in order to send back the vodka and a few other items as my bag was way too heavy. I opened my small day bag that I just use for a guidebook and wallet and immediately sensed something was missing. I had been carrying a substantial sum of euros in it and when I opened it they were not where I expected them to be. I emptied the bag but my fears were confirmed, they had been pick pocketed. I know I had them in Ukraine on the border as I had them easily accessible in case the border authorities wanted to know how much foreign currency I had. I searched and searched again but I knew they had gone. Either stolen by the hordes of street hawkers that surrounded me by the bus, or more than likely, by a professional thief on the bus. We were literally crammed in so tightly it was dangerous. I could see my bag but my arms were pinned to me so I can only assume I was pick pocketed there. Professional thieves target foreigners on these buses and despite taking reasonable precautions it appeared I had become yet another victim. Devastated I decided to pick myself up as best I could and at least report the matter to the police. I felt very stupid that I had allowed it to happen but it had. The police were good and thorough and I was especially grateful to an administrator who stayed with me the whole time and translated my statement to the policeman. He even arranged a lift for me to the train station in time for my train to Krakow. I was quite surprised to find myself in the back of a Police meat wagon with bars on the windows as my ride to the station.
Well that was the very unsavoury end to my Ukrainian adventure, I had a great time but the theft will mean my last memories of the trip were not good ones and the memories and feeling of it will remain for a long time.

Walking tour and a memorable evening.

I wanted to make the most of my last day in Lviv as tomorrow would just be a travelling day to Krakow to fly home. To really get under the skin of the city I had decided to follow a walking tour, not one of those for geriatric coach parties following a leader holding an umbrella aloft but one you follow yourself looking out for landmarks and sights along the way. I love doing these as they can be a challenge but are also very rewarding when you finish them.
I wasted an hour in the Lviv post office trying to post home two small bottles of Ukrainian vodka – it’s illegal apparently- and set off for my walking tour which began by the dominating Shevchenko monument in the central part of the city on Prospecto Svobody. Just by the monument was a small street market, I spied a book on a stall which was obviously quite old but appeared to have the actor Tom Cruise on the cover, none of the cyrillic text looked like his name so I sneaked a picture, anyone reading this please let me know what you think!
On the front The guidebook said it should be a two and a half hour walk, due to more utter bewilderment with the alphabet and a totally inadeqate and at a times completely inaccurate map it took nearer five. Once I followed a complete loop which unexpectedly dumped me almost back at the start of the route when I expected to be miles away. Halfway through the tour I had the option of a long tiring climb up a steep hill to The High Castle and promised spectacular views or bypassing it altogether and heading into the Old Town. Despite being very tired in the heat I did the climb and was glad I did. After a steep climb up a mountain path I saw that the real climb was still ahead via around 200 steps on a steep metal staircase to the very top. At the top of the staircase and almost delirious thought heat exhaustion and dehydration I approached someone walking towards me to ask the route to the very top. I just gesticulated wildly to the top as I could barely speak and assumed he was Ukrainian and was delighted to hear he was English. He said he was fairly sure of the way to the top so I followed him. He was a really nice bloke, his name was Thomas and he was from Nottingham and travelling independently through Europe just like I have done many times. We enjoyed the view from the top and he decided to join me on the concluding part of my walking tour.
After completing the tour, which I determined to do I suggested a beer and Thomas suggested going to a underground Ukrainian Nationalist bar called Kriyivka or ‘Bunker’ in Ukrainian. I had heard of this totally unique bar and had been planning to go there anyway so I readily agreed. This isn’t just any bar, to gain admission to the very hard to find cellar you have to give the password “ Slava Ukrainie” to an AK47 toting guard on the door. He then gives you a free shot of Ukrainian medivuka and you descend into the basement and to a truly brilliant place. We had a nice and very cheap dinner and several very nice local beers.
Along the wall by the bar were a few guns which customers were allowed to pick up for photos, so of course we couldn’t resist. It was great fun and I got some truly memorable photos. We changed seats in order to listen to and watch a traditional Ukrainian folk group perform some very nice atmospheric music. At the back of the room was a large group of people who cheered when they heard we were English. After a while we agreed to join them at their table and our already memorable evening got even better. They were half English, half Ukrainian and from the Midlands enjoying a week back in Ukraine with family. They kept jumping to their feet and singing traditional Patriotic Ukrainian songs very loudly complete with table thumping and endless supply of alcohol. They encouraged Thomas and me to help ourselves to whatever food and drink was on the table. I tried Pigs Ear and it was disgusting, I ended up throwing it under my chair when they weren’t looking! I asked if there were any songs they knew which a non Ukrainian speaker could at least try to join in with. Instantly they knew one and gave me and Thomas one word which we were to sing at the end of every line they sung. It really was great fun and a great experience, even though I had no idea what I was singing!
After the Ukrainian Brits had abruptly left, I would have bet anything on them staying all night, I decided to go back to the hostel as I had a relatively early start the following morning. It was an extremely memorable evening and one I’ll never forget.

First Day In Lviv

First full day in Ukraine
I slept really well, probably due to having the whole dorm to myself. Probably slept a bit too well in fact as I forgot to change the time on my phone ahead one hour so the 10am alarm clock was actually 11am and I lost an hour.
My main priority was to just explore the city on foot and just experience the charm of the city. The Polish peole from the day before had hinted as possibly meeting up today but I had decided I wanted a day alone to explore. I hadn’t heard from them prior to leaving the hostel. Gabor did eventually text me but I chose not to reply immediately, I wanted to be alone and my time was limited and precious. I decided on two excursions as well which were recommended by my Lonely Planet Guide. It said “don’t even think of leaving Lviv without visiting the Lychakiv Cemetery, described as the Pere Lachaisse of Eastern Europe. Never having visiting the more famous Paris Cemetery I had no idea of comparison but with a write up like that I had to give it a go. I really should stop giving Lonely Planet so much credibility. I had never heard of anyone buried there, not even Ivan Franco which LP picked out as a highlight and very important figure. A lot of the gravestones were very impressive but very quickly I became bored as one grave merged into another so after about half an hour I turned around and left, quietly regretting having devoted so much time to visiting the place.
It was now past lunchtime and having passed on the pathetic hostel breakfast I was starving so I stopped in the Old Town for lunch at the Korzo ‘Irish’ pub. Half decent food, ridiculously slow service and a clichéd Irish music CD seemingly on repeat greeted me for the next hour.
I had decided to visit the Robert Dom’s Beer House next, a brewery of Lviv’s oldest beer Lvivske. There is a museum attached with tasting included in the £1.20 admission. I got ridiculously lost and disoriented trying to decipher the Cyrillic road signs against my map and had almost given up when I found it. The museum was interesting but the tour was only in Russian and Ukrainian so I just wandered around the exhibits and proceeded onto the tasting. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the ‘tasting’ was two full pints of different types of beer rather than the shot glass size tasters I was expecting.
Pretty tired by this point I returned to the Kosmonaut to relax prior to dinner. I got chatting to an American guy called Scott and a Dutch woman who seemed to be together. They invited me to join them for a drink which I did. It soon became apparent that they weren’t a couple but the American guy was desperately trying to impress her, it would’ve been funny if his attempts to impress her weren’t so vomit inducing. Still they were interesting company. He had lived in Ukraine for two years as a church Missionary and was fluent in Ukrainian and was very useful in communicating with the bar staff when necessary. I hadn’t learnt my lesson in not treating Lonely Planet as Gospel and had decided to go the highly recommended Amadeus restaurant and they decided to join me. It was tough to find but the food was well worth the effort.
My first impressions of Lviv was that it was a very pretty city but not as stunningly beautiful as I had imagined. The architecture reminded me very much of Gdansk and Poland in general, which is a reminder of the fact that Lviv has only been part of Ukraine since 1945. I had a great day exploring the old town and getting a feel of the city and am looking forward to one more full day tomorrow.

Poland to Ukraine overland

My journey to to Lviv in Ukraine wasn’t what you could call a straight forward journey. I would fly to an obscure city in South East Poland called Rzeszow (pron. Sheshov), then take a ninety minute train to an equally impossible to pronounce city very close to the border called Przemysl (pron. Prashemesh). From there it’s a fifteen minute minibus to the border town Medycka where you alight and just cross the border into Ukraine on foot. The last stage is a 2 hour minibus- called marshrutkas- to Lviv. Sound simple? Read on.
I found the route on Wikitravel after finding out that flights to Lviv were very expensive and direct trains and buses from Poland coming with horror stories of up to nine hour delays at the border where officials check for illegal goods on this notorious smuggling route. The trains have the added problem of a two hour wait to change the wheels to the Ukrainian gauge. The convoluted route has the bonus that individuals crossing the border are rarely delayed longer than 30 minutes and western passport holders are sometimes rushed through as they are considered less of a smuggling risk.
I really don’t like just using cities as a jumping board to get elsewhere, I believe that everywhere at least warrants a bit of exploring, but unfortunately with Rzeszow that’s exactly what I did. I took the airport bus to the main station and eager to push on to Lviv I decided to jump on a soon to depart train to Przemsyl as I didn’t know what delays might be awaiting me at the border.
The third stage of the journey from Przemsyl to the border wasn’t immediately obvious. I had to make sure I got the domestic bus that just takes you to the border and not a bus going to somewhere in Ukraine. I eventually found one after stopping to eat a rancid looking burger in a grill in the bus station. The minibus was ridiculously overcrowded and for the start of the journey I was crouched in a very uncomfortable position holding my bag until I somehow found a way of positioning myself between it and the window. I got chatting to a nice Polish guy on the bus who says he was also heading to Lviv. He had never done the journey before either so we said we’d help each other out if necessary. The 20 minute journey was quite uncomfortable but we got to the border amid scenes of dozens of middle ages women flogging bottles of vodka and cheap Ukrainian cigarettes, I was harassed immediately after getting off the bus but just walked past them looking for the border. I expected it to be just there but it wasn’t, it was a walk of about a mile along a concrete path with high fencing both sides. First I cleared the Polish immigration and effectively EU immigration and then walked about 500 metres through neutral border territory to the Ukrainian frontier. After a few pointless questions from the border woman, including “Are you afraid on going to Ukraine alone?” I was stamped into Ukraine and my 37th country. A proud moment! Myself and the Polish group bought a few drinks at a dingy cafe in the dingy border town of Shegyni and walked up the road to the bus station, hoping that Wikitravel had its facts right. It did and a bus was about to depart but I suddenly realised I had no Ukrainian money. Luckily the polish guy Gabor offered to pay for my ticket and I would pay him back when we got to Lviv. The fare was only 15 Ukrainian Hryvna which is about £1.20, not bad for a 2 hour bus ride! I was a little concerned when I saw the bus; it was the same size as the bus from Przemysl to Medycka and with probably more people trying to get on it. I squeezed on it right at the back and had to stand for at least an hour, desperately trying to hold on along probably the worst roads I have ever experienced. We got to Lviv eventually and despite the appalling roads I even managed to doze off for a while, after I managed to get a seat of course. All that was left now was to get some money and get to the Hostel Kosmonaut which I had prebooked, relax and reflect on a quite unique and memorable journey.

Ukraine, eventually....

Thanks to an embarrassing oversight I am writing a pre trip post rather than a first day in Ukraine post. I was convinced I was flying today and thought it was a glitch in ryanair's booking system that wouldn't let me check in. When I dug out my flight itinerary I realised it was for the 10th, not 9th... Easily done, well that's what I keep telling myself.

My quest to go to every country in Europe continues tomorrow with country number 37 and Ukraine. I actually consider myself to be on 39 as I'm counting The Vatican and Monaco but my good friend Adam whom I'm in a unofficial number of countries race with doesn't count them. So until I get official word from the UN it'll be number 37.

I guess some of my countries have been a little shameless, 1 night visits sometimes, Portugal springs to mind and Finland even less,but with Ukraine and Lviv I am genuinely excited about seeing this city and experiencing Ukrainian hospitality and culture.
I have an interesting journey to Ukraine , via south east Poland and a Ryanair flight to Rzeszow and then a overland route that I discovered off Wikitravel, maybe not the most reliable source of information but it should be an interesting few days into the unknown. Watch this space for updates.