Days 3, 4, 5, 6 - From Russia with Love
It's been a long time sicne we've had access to internet, or at least a computer. Many, many things have happened so far on this trip. It's hard to keep track. And it's only been 6 days!
First--things we've lost:
1. Two blown tires (one at the entrance gate; one on crappy potholes in the middle of nowhere, Ukraine) 2. One computer (a mystery) 3. An exhaust pipe (later re-welded onto the back of the car, by Maksim, the most awesome mechanic on this planet). 4. A lot of spray cans and painting supplies (taken as a "gift" by our mechanic's friends) 5. Bottles of whiskey and slivovice, drunk by our new Ukrainian friends at the border.
The first tire problem, we've already discussed. The second tire was also our fault. We drove out of a motel about 3-4 hours out of Lviv, and headed towards Chernobyl (which sadly wasn't destined to work out). On the way, after switching from a main highway, to another "highway". We realized we had reached a different kind of road-the Highway to Hell.
What started out as a smooth driving experience abruptly descended into car-destroying potholes every which way. The road look liked someone had just mortared the hell out of it until it was almost undrivable. Skip did a hell of a job navigating around them by skiing between them, switching from one lane to another at about 15-20 mph. Every now and then, we heard the sound of a rock or pothole scrape the underside of our car, and thanked ourselves for installing a metal sumpguard underneath, to protect the car's engine.
After a half hour of yelling and laughing at the absurdity of the situation, we reached a stretch of smooth road and decided to fortify the tires using a special kind of green, gooey tire sealant. Unfortunately, this plan backfired, because our compressor gave a faulty pressure reading on our front-left tire. Which meant that, about 20 minutes later, while singing along to David Bowie, the tire exploded in a shower of green slime all over the road.
We had a semi-workable spare in the back. But this soon proved to be useless, as our lugnut wrench was mysteriously bent and unusable. Meaning we were up shit's creek.
In the middle of nowhere in Ukraine, without any signs of civilization and infrequent cars, we left Josh to guard the car and fend off hordes of ravenous horseflies, and we (Skip and Will) set off to find help down the road. After finding a gas station, there was a further problem--how to communicate to the attendants our problem? Skip solved this with a strip of toilet paper, and a simple diagram. We learned the next mechanic was 10 miles down the road.
Opting out of walking, we hitched a ride with a Ukrainian truckdriver, who ended every sentence with the word "Bled", which roughly means "Whore". Will used his meager Russian to communicate with him, and he happily dropped us off at a spot where we saw a sign for a garage.
At the gate to the complex in which the auto garage was located, there on the gate was a relic of the great USSR: a red hammer and sickle. I guess someone forgot to take it down. In the complex, the situation resolved itself into something far less sinister. We walked into the garage and told some very amused mechanics about our trouble. We ended up having the car towed to the garage, and hanging out with the mechanics and having a very simple, broken conversation with them for hours. At one point, we offered them some of our paint, to add decorations to our car. They conferred with each other for a moment, took the paint, and ran away with it, using it on different cars on the property. When they came back, they used the remaining paint to write a pro-Ukraine slogan on the hood, a Ukrainian flag, and also (with white chalk, luckily), a sign that translated to, "Fuck the police".
Four hours later, and many random jokes involving Paris Hilton, our ridiculous car, and the situation in Ukraine, we left with our car fixed and exhaust piped mended. We made a new friend with Maksim, the talented mechanic who helped us out, and will keep in touch with him in the future.
Later, we drove to Kiev and found a room in a hotel on the outskirts of town. We slept in, enjoying the relatively nice accomodations, and then woke up the next day to move to a much crappier hostel in the center.
Skip went on his own walking tour of the city, while Josh and Will went on their own adventure to Kiev's "beach", a sort of boardwalk by the main river in the city. From there, the night took Will and Josh to an underground club in an abandoned factory, where they partied until dawn.
The next morning was difficult for some, with accompanyingly disastrous hangovers. We drove east from Kiev, stopping only for gas and once to pay a "fine" from a police officer (to be fare, we did break a rule about not passing cars on turns). We also stopped at a road sign for the "Hydrological Monument of Nature in Ukraine", which disappointed slightly: it was a well in a forest.
We drove up to the Ukraine/Russia border, had a very friendly exchange with a border guard there who thought our car was hilarious (though he did ask us multiple times if we were carrying drugs), and after a half-hearted search of the car, he let us on. That Ukrainian section took maybe 15-20 minutes. We thought that we would be into Russia in no time. That was very wrong.
The line that we drove into, after the Ukrainian section, was about 100-ish cars long. The border cops let in about 3 cars every half hour. The resulting wait was 8 hours long, sitting in the miserably hot sun.
We did make friends in the line, hanging out with some Ukrainian laborers (apparently they drive in every week to do manual labor in Russia and drive back---considering the length of each border crossing, probably the worst job in the world). They offered us Ukrainian vodka, which is about twice the strength of normal vodka and feels like it burns a hole through your stomach, and also alternatively were friendly or aggressive. It was weird time. One of them challenged Skip to an arm wrestling match. Another demanded to know why we couldn't speak Russian.
In the end, we made it to the front, and what appeared to be a forbidding and awful experience (considering the state of Ukraine-Russian affairs, and the state of US-Russian affairs right now), was easy and simple. The guards checked our paperwork and let us through, with no problems. The female Russian passport-checker even told me that I (Will) have a nice smile. After filling out some random paperwork, we were cleared to go, and physically exhausted, we drove for several hours towards Moscow, then parked off near a forest to camp for the night.
Right now, we are in Moscow. More to come!
