Tuesday, February 10, 2009

And then Transdniestra Got in the Way… – Part 6

We couldn’t be bothered to wait around the border area for a bus to the next town. Locals told us one would be coming, but it was anybody’s guess when it would actually arrive. So we just starting walking. Past an ostensibly abandoned kolkhoz (commune), a real treat of the journey I might add, over hills, around corners. On such a pleasant fall day, walking was probably preferable to sitting in a crowded microbus.

Eventually we came upon a town with what we hoped was a train station. I asked some truck drivers what the best way was to get back to Chernovitse, but they just looked back at me and I imagined them saying, “Why don’t you just get a taxi?” when in reality they said, “Well, you can take a bus or the train. The train station was up a few hundred metres and then to the left.”

I asked another group of drivers further along where the train station was. They simply pointed across the road and said, “There.” It’s times like this when I’m glad the locals actually know where things are as opposed to just guessing and pointing randomly in different directions.

At the train station, we learned that the train wasn’t coming for another hour. For fun, we went back to the main road and tried to flag down a bus. I consider myself well-versed in the art of flagging down vehicles propelled by the internal combustion engine, but this task proved to be difficult. Bus after bus was either not going to Chernovitse, was full, or just had no interest in picking us up.

We finally opted for the train and left our spot in front of the ubiquitous Palace of Culture found in every town. There is nothing like a grandiose name to make a small building in a small town sound important. Such exaggeration is something only the Soviets and North Korean government are good at.

Our day trip ended with a sleepy train ride back to Chernovitse. This time we were in a warm carriage with reasonable comfortable seats. We sat, listening to the locals banter away, and prepared for our trip to Babin the next morning.

1 Comments:

At 9:42 p.m., Anonymous Anonymous said...

The guard at the train station was rather suprised to see us. He wondered how we got back to the Ukraine without taking the train. He remembered us from the morning when he had checked our passports.

 

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