Yet Another Transportation Adventure

Two weeks ago, I went to Kiev for my mid-service medical checkup. I went with my good friend Sharece, who has come to visit me in Bar numerous times, and two other volunteers.

Sharece and I met in Vinnystia the night before our trip into Kiev. We had tickets on the 6 am express train. I’ve taken the express train lots of times and never had a problem. I always stay the night with Sandy and Eric, catch a taxi to the train station at 5:30 am, and end up with plenty of time to stand around and stare at my watch. Sharece had never taken the early train, but I assured her that it was simple. No big deal. Bez problem.

We left Sandy and Eric’s apartment at 5:20 am, like I usually do when I take the early train, and walked to the taxi stand down the street. It was dark out, and rather deserted. There was one taxi idling at the taxi stand.

“Sweet, there’s our taxi,” I said, only no sooner were the words out of my mouth, then the taxi bolted off and disappeared down the empty street.

“Don’t worry,” I told Sharece as I fished out my cell phone, “I’ve got some phone numbers. We’ll just call for a taxi.” I called two different taxi companies, but neither had any taxis to spare. I called them over and over, until finally the operator screamed, “All our taxis are busy! Don’t call again!”

At this point, it was 5:35.

“Um, Sharece,” I said, “I can’t get a taxi, this street is deserted, and quite frankly, I don’t know what we’re going to do. I’ve never had a problem before.”
“Well, let’s just start walking towards the busy street over there,” she said, pointing.
“Okay, but so you know, that street is deceptively far away,” I replied, “ and I don’t know if we’re going to make our train if we don’t get a taxi in the next 10 minutes.”

So we started running up the dark, empty street. Just then, a taxi came flying down the road. We frantically tried to wave it down, but it just blew past us. We kept running, our big duffle bags banging against our hips, our noses running from the arctic morning air.

“It’s 5:43,” Sharece said, “let’s just try to flag down any car we can.”
“Okay,” I huffed, sticking my arm out as we continued running down the street like two crazies loose from the asylum. Nobody stopped.

Finally we saw two taxies idling at what appeared to be a taxi stand down the street. They were our last hope. We pressed on, though we were wheezing and sweating and sniffling from our morning run, and our shoulders drooped from the weight of our bags.

I reached the first taxi, opened the door and said, through gasps, “The train station.”
“I’m occupied,” the driver said, “close the door.” I looked to the other taxi and saw that it too was waiting for someone in the casino.

“Both taxis are busy,” I said to Sharece, “We’re not gunna make it. I don’t know what else we can do. That street is still a good half kilometer away.” We stood in the street, catching our breath, staring at each other.

“You need a taxi,” the driver of the second car said, rolling down his window, “I can call you a taxi.” He put a call into his radio and then said, “Ten to fifteen minutes.”

“We don’t have time,” I said, “We need to go to the train station now.”
“What time is your train?” he asked. Sharece looked at her watch, it was 5:53.
“In 12 minutes” she said, “At 5 after 6.” The driver’s eyes popped out of his head,
“Why aren’t you at the train station?! Twelve minutes!” he shook his head.
“All the taxis were busy,” I replied sheepishly.

Just then, the man who’s taxi it was, came out of the casino. He looked at us, and the desperate looks on our faces and said to the driver,
“What’s wrong with you? Take the girls to the station and come back for me, I can wait” We thanked him profusely as we climbed into the cab. We had 10 minutes.

“Ten minutes to make your train,” the driver said, laughing and racing down the street, “What’s wrong with your men? What’s wrong with your men that they let you sleep late and miss your train?!”

We made it to the train station in record time. We thanked the driver again and tipped him big for saving the day. He just laughed at us and said, “Next time, don’t sleep so long. It’s better to get the train than to sleep.”

So miraculously, with 3 minutes to spare, Sharece and I found ourselves standing on the platform, looking at our watches, waiting for our train to come…

***

The mid-service medical check up was easy. It took only a small part of the afternoon, but we had to stay in town for 48 hours to have our TB tests checked. I was, in case you are wondering “the picture of health.” No parasites, no unusual levels of unusual sounding words in my urine, no TB exposure, no cavities… Ironically though, not even 24 hours after I got a clean bill of health from the medical staff, I came down with a nasty flu-like cold.

After Kiev, I went back with Sharece to her small town. She’s been to Bar many times, but I’d never visited her at her site, and she really wanted me to come. So I told her I’d go back with her from Kiev.

I always take the train to and from Kiev. Sharece always takes a bus. It's a 5 and a half hour bus from the outskirts of Kiev directly to her small town. It's an old village bus that winds through the back streets, stops for every person who sticks out their arm, and smells like an old shoe.

The trip to Sharece's town was miserable, mostly because I was starting to get sick. My head hurt, my body ached, and I was dehydrated because I couldn't risk drinking water and having to use the bathroom. The bus made one 10 minute stop two and a half hours into the trip and that was it. I don't think it would have been so grueling if I hadn't been getting sick.

I ended up only spending one night with Sharece in her town. I went back to Bar the very next day and collapsed on my couch, where I stayed for the next 4 days. I called my teachers and told them that I was sick and wouldn't be coming in. Larisa's response was, "Well, have fun." Right. Fun.

Roma came by and brought me soup everyday. He also brought me milk and honey, which is a standard Ukrainian treatment for colds and flu. Really, if it hadn't been for him (and his mother's cooking) there would have been more than just one tearful call home to my mom.

I missed three days of school. On the third day, I was informed that my school had been shut down due to a flu "epidemic". All the schools in Bar were under "quarantine" for 10 days. Throughout Ukraine, schools have been under quarantine for the past couple of weeks. Apparently this happens almost every year in February when kids start to get sick. Last year there was no quarantine, but I guess that it was an anomaly.

(Funny thing-- schools were under quarantine on Valentines Day, but that didn't stop the Valentines Day dance at school no. 3, where kids from all the school gathered to dance and spread their germs.)

I'm feeling much better now, though my cold has proven tough to shake. I still have the sniffles and a little cough, but I'm off the couch and back among the living. School starts again monday. Sharece is coming on Saturday because it's my friend Ira's birthday and Ira loves Sharece. So that should be fun.

My apologies for being a blogging bum. My only excuse is that I was sick, and then a bit lazy. I promise to be better.

Pictures From Our Winter Shashleek