Signs, Omens and Birthdays

I've never been one to look for signs or omens or to think in terms of lucky and unlucky. I do, after all, own a black cat and he regularly crosses my path. With the exception of the time he set himself slightly on fire by jumping up on the stove, nothing bad has happened. So when my key got stuck in the door early, early Saturday morning, effectively locking me inside my apartment, I did not think: bad news, bad sign, can't take this trip.

After yanking and twisting and cursing, I got the key out of the door and headed over to Roma's house. His mom fed me a hearty breakfast of mashed potatoes and fried turkey.

"Do you want an apple for later?" she asked as we were getting ready to head out the door.
"Sure," I said, "I'll probably want an apple later." And with that, she shoved six apples into my bag.

The plan was to catch an early bus to Vinnystia where we could catch yet another bus to the city of Uman, one oblast (and 3.5 hours)away. Uman is the home of Sophiavsky Park, the most famous park in all of Ukraine. I have heard about the beauty of Sophiavsky Park since I first moved to Ukraine two years ago and have always wanted to visit it.

We had originally wanted to visit the park with our friends Sasha and Alona, but plans with them kept falling through and so Roma and I decided to take the trip ourselves, before all the fall leaves fell.

Roma and I decided to make a short trip of it. We would get into Uman around two o'clock Saturday afternoon, find a hotel, drop our bag off and then head to the park and spend the rest of the day walking around. Then, Sunday morning, we'd get back on the bus and head back to Vinnystia.

So stood the agenda when Roma and I and my bag full of apples left the house early, early Saturday morning. While we were waiting for the bus to Vinnystia, it started pouring down rain. It rained and rained and rained all the way to Vinnystia where we caught a bus to Uman.

Now if I were an omen kind of girl, I probably would have thought: key + torrential downpour = stay at home. But, I'm not that kind of girl. And so on we went to Uman.

Three and a half uncomfortable hours later, we arrived in Uman. As the bus was coming into the city, I scouted out signs for hotels.

"I saw a sign for a hotel back there," I said to Roma after we were off the bus.
"Back where?" he asked.
"Back there," I said, waving my arm wildly in the direction the bus had just come from.
"Well, there are taxis here, why don't we just take a taxi to a hotel," he said.
"Why take a taxi when I saw a sign right over there," I said again, waving my arm even more wildly than before.

And probably more because he wanted to stop my crazy arm waving from drawing any more attention to us, Roma gave in and we started to walk.

"See," I said, pointing up and feeling smug, "A sign for a hotel"
"A hotel that's a kilometer away," Roma responded.
"Well, that's not that far. Let's just keep walking," I replied.

And so we did. Roma and I and my bag of apples kept walking. In the distance I heard the sound of a parade, but didn't think anything of it. I was too focused on finding the hotel and being right to concern myself with any festivities that might be taking place.

Unfortunately, our walk to the hotel took us farther and farther away from the town. We were standing on the edge of civilization with no hotel in sight when I finally had to say,

"Well, maybe you were right. We probably should have taken a taxi to a hotel. We don't want to stay someplace in the middle of nowhere."

And with that, Roma and I and my bag of apples walked back.

Once in town again, we grabbed a taxi and asked the driver to take us to a hotel.

"That's going to be hard," he said, "Today is the city's birthday and I've never in all my life seen so many tourists."

It was true. It was the Day of Uman and literally thousands and thousands of people from all across Ukraine came by the busloads to celebrate the city and visit the famous park. We couldn't get a hotel room at any of the seven hotels located in the city nor could we rent an apartment for the night as I often do in Kiev. Nothing was available. The city was flooded with people. Of the 365 days in the year, Roma and I picked the single worst day to visit Uman.

The taxi dropped us off at the center of town where we made a last ditch effort to get a room for the night. But everything was full. I was frustrated and disappointed and though it made no sense at all, furious at our situation. I had, in short, a case of MFF (Mahaffey Family Fury). MFF is the sudden, inexplicable flare up of unnecessary anger or fury over matters beyond ones immediate control. It subsides as quickly as it flares up so long as the afflicted party is not egged on.

"What are we going to do?" Roma asked innocently as we walked past packs of happy people holding balloons and eating popcorn, "Are you listening? What are we going to do?"
"We're not going to talk for five minutes," I snapped, "Got that? Five minutes. In five minutes we'll talk about what we're going to do, but for now, I'm just angry."

Five minutes later, MFF gone, we decided to visit the park and then try to get a bus back to Vinnystia -- if there was one.

So Roma, I and my bag full of apples headed to the park. It was a beautiful park. There were lakes and fountains and flower beds and waterfalls and rose gardens and grass fields and trees in every lovely shade of Autumn. It was the most beautiful natural space I'd seen in Ukraine.

Roma and I walked around taking pictures and squeezing our way through the crowds of school children on class trips. And though we had but two hours to walk around before our bus left for Vinnystia, Roma and I and my bag full of apples had a lovely time.

Once back in Vinnystia, we had to call our friends to come pick us up because there were no buses to Bar. We waited for them in a pub where we drank beer and laughed about our luck and the fact that Roma and I and my bag full of apples probably should have seen the signs.