Oh, that’s nice, now get away from my feet…

So I have arrived in Rome, the final stop on my journey. Of course I had more transpo problems. But like I said-It’s not my fault. This time my train had rocks on the track and electricity problems. See?

Now that I have arrived I made sure to do all the classic Roman things. Today I went to the Pantheon, the Capuchin Crypt, an ancient art museum, the Trevi fountain, and so many other amazing places. I ate gelato as I wandered the narrow streets. I watched the sunset over Rome from the top of the Spanish steps. It was great. There are some pics down below. I took video but I do not have the cord to connect to my computer so you will have to check that out later.

And instead of sharing a story from one of these amazing, historical venues, I would like to tell you of my brief encounter with a Roman this evening.

It was 8 pm and while wandering around the Pope’s Piazza I spotted a church. I was tired, I had been wandering all day and it looked like it might be a great place to sit and rest. So I went inside, sat down and began to enjoy the general splendor. It was a beautiful church. The marble was gorgeous, the frescos were vibrant, I really did enjoy the experience.

While I was sitting, a man came to talk to me. He was in his early forties, balding, with black frizzy hair, thick glasses, and wearing a fanny pack. A native Roman. He greeted me and asked if I spoke English. I told him I did and he kindly relayed a Roman tradition to me.

According to this man, the floor of the church is considered holy. And women, being the more sensitive of the sexes are allowed to walk barefoot in the church because they can feel the powerful vibrations through the floor. I thought that was interesting and with a little urging from the guy I took off my flip-flops and began to walk around.

The marble did feel nice and cool but I did not feel vibrations through the floor. This man, however, began to ask me several questions. Do you go barefoot a lot? When do you go barefoot? Do you walk on the streets barefoot? Do you walk in the forests barefoot? I politely answered every question while my freak-o-meter slowly rose notch by notch.

But he was nice and I was able to steer the conversation away from being barefoot. He told me this was his favorite church and he often came to pray. We talked about the imported marble and the popularity of being Baptist in the US, among other things.

After we had circled the church he said he wanted to show me a tomb I had missed on the way in. So we walked through a kind of hidden door to where a saint was buried. It was very beautiful and had a painting that was breathtaking. After standing in silence for a few minutes the man asked if I had heard of the other tradition common in this church.

He said it was tradition for brothers in Christ to put the shoes back onto the feet of their sisters (in Christ).

Excuse me?

Yes, that’s right. And after a moment of stunned silence he told me to sit down and he would gently replace my flip-flops onto my feet.

As my freak-o-meter burst from the rising pressure I dropped my flip-flops to the floor and stepped into them. I told him thanks, but I can put my own shoes back on. I gave him a sincere thank you for all his interesting information and then ran out of there as he asked where I was headed.

1. Trevi Fountain: check

2. Spanish Steps: check

3. Man with a foot fetish: check check

Trevi Fountain

The dome inside San Carlo Alle Quattro Fontne Church.

A fountain near the Capuchin Monk Crypt. These are all over Italy and deliver free, cold, supposedly fresh water

The Spanish steps, anyone referencing Roman Holiday yet?

A beggar at the steps. They are all over the city, it breaks my heart.

Sunset from the top of the steps.

Piazza Navona, this is the top of the Palace Pamphilj, which I spelled correctly.

A fountain outside the Pantheon. Is it just me or is that statue checking out the bird?

The Pantheon. I didn't get any great shots inside but I did take some video. It will be up soon,

Where were we…

It feels like weeks since the train escapade. Since then I have had several more "adventures" with the public transportation system. It really is not my fault. I can provide evidence if asked, however now is not the time. This best thing to talk about is Nice.

Actually, I should mention Riga, which was beautiful. They have the most amazing architecture in the old city. And I got to see it all because I got lost. I know…I know…that one was a little my fault. However, after I got out of Riga I flew to Nice.

The airport is on a peninsula, so if you land to early or can’t stop you end up in the water. That was fun to watch. We also flew over the Swiss Alps. Most of the time there were clouds in the way however I managed to snap a couple good shots towards the bottom of the line in Nice.

After more bus issues I made it to my hostel and it was a little rainy. So I went to the beach briefly and walked around, I spent most of my day recovering. However today was glorious! It was sunny all day. I went down to the beach, which is pebbly. While the rocks are harder to lay on, they aren’t too bad because they are all smooth from the beating waves. It also means there is no sand to get in your suit and your…well you understand.

I spent the afternoon relaxing on the shore and diving in the beautiful blue depths of the sea. It was magnificent. I then walked along the promenade and little shops and bought some scarves. All my transportation woes were washed away…

PS-Please keep Erin in your prayers as she goes to renew her visa in Budapest.

Two brief glimpses of Riga.

The Alps..no photo editing...aren't they gorgeous?

Nice as we circle around to land.

Downtown they have flags and lights strung everywhere. Street musicians are also rampant.

The French also like people watching, it is the national pastime to sit, eat outside, and watch the many passerbys.

Of course, many beautiful fountains.

Ahh, home away from home.

The Newest Blockbuster

Oh, do I have a story for you. It has all the qualities of a blockbuster. You will laugh, you will cry, you will sit on the edge of your seat; it’s fun for the whole family.

Today was my last day in Ukraine. Erin and I woke at the crack of dawn. Our itinerary included taking a taxi at 7:15 to the train station. The train leaves at 7:40 and from there it is a four-hour journey to Kiev. Next we taxi to the airport, followed by goodbyes. Doesn’t it sound so simple?

It is simple, especially with a pro like Erin. However, what do you do when your taxi does NOT show up in the morning? We had already scheduled the taxi so we waited. And waited. Erin got a crick in her neck from glancing between her watch and glaring down the road. At 7:30 we were forced to find another cab, which luckily, there was an extra one right across the road.

As we are riding across town we hit EVERY red light. Seriously. And the taxi driver was being way to cautious. We are in Ukraine, no one ever follows the speed limit…except today. How do you say, “You have got to be kidding me, I will give you anything I have if you will please just find the gas pedal” in Russian?

As we are getting closer Erin gets out the train tickets and money for the cab. She turns to me and informs me we are cutting it really close. She decides she will stay and pay the driver while I run to the train (which she also needs to be on). “Once you get there, stall,” she says.

So I am mentally preparing myself to throw the world’s biggest Americanized hissy fit. I am picturing yelling, crying, and begging. (By the way, we were praying this entire time-I know God can be way more effective than my hissy fit, but I was ready to go if necessary!)

I asked Erin how much time we had until we got to the station. “Two minutes,” she replied. Then I asked, “How far away are we right now?” “Two minutes,” she replied. Of course the train is the only thing that runs on time in Ukraine. Okay, time to get the tears ready, I put my best “I am a poor confused American” face on.

But we pull up to the train station and I can see the train is still there. Okay, so we are fine. Erin throws money at the driver and we walk/run through the terminal. Why are we still running Erin? We break onto the platform and my stomach drops.

There is not a human standing on the platform. The stairs are all raised. The train attendants are on board and about to give the all clear and I swear I heard the engine starting up.

We start screaming and running.

All I am thinking is NO! NO! NO! We are so close! If we have to rock climb while carrying my backpack we are getting on that train. Erin looks at our tickets and realized our cabin is several cars up. I don’t care. I run at the first attendant I see and start begging in English “Please, please, please”. There were no other words.

By God’s almighty grace, the attendant uncovered the stairs and rushed us on. We gave her the tickets. One attendant kept talking to me and I couldn’t remember anything in Russian. So I said thank you five times and then remembered, “Engliski” means “English” in Russian. So I told her “Engliski!” which I am pretty sure she had already figured out.

By then the train was moving. Praise Jesus. Literally 30 seconds more and we would not have made it. Of course, we were so hyped up on adrenaline that Erin and I couldn’t stop talking/laughing/shaking for the next hour. Oh Ukraine, what a farewell.

What I've Left Behind

Tonight, while you are sleeping, I will begin the next leg of my journey. I have spent three weeks here in Ukraine and now I am traveling to Riga, Latvia; Nice, France and Rome. Of course the prospect of this journey is exciting and new but it is also bittersweet. There are many funny, challenging, and difficult things you encounter while living in Ukraine. I have truly loved the people, the food (kinda ;) , the culture, and the sights.

However the hardest thing to leave behind is Erin. I am leaving my dear friend and were she not also traveling (to renew her visa) I would change my ticket just to stay here another week. At this moment it feels like the most tragical thing, but I will remember true friends are always together in spirit...especially when there is a bond over great literature. :)

So I want to share some previously unpublished, yet wonderful images of Erin.

This is at our favorite pizza store. Please notice the background decor...and Erin's excitement over pizza.

In Ukraine women are not allowed to sit on cold/hard, this includes the ground or any marble surfaces. You will be reproached because sitting there causes infertility. Of course. Therefore I title this image "Barren Erin"
Banana muffin night...they were scrumdiddlyumptious!
Pre-Aviation Museum. Who knew camo spanned so many cultural barriers?

Kat Douglas: Master of Public Transportation...sort of.

I do not have a lot of experience with public transportation. In fact I have several embarrassing stories (pre Ukraine) that I would rather not share. However, now that I have been to the UK, Netherlands, and Ukraine I am feeling more accustomed. For example, I can tell the bus lady that I would like two tickets but Erin still has to tell me what bus to ride.

In Ukraine we have three choices of transportation. Choice number one-the bus. These run frequently but are usually packed. And by packed I mean they make sardines tins look roomy. Once, Erin had a man wipe his nose on the back of her hand. No joke. In Ukraine they say:

How many Ukrainians can you fit on a bus?

-One More

Choice number two-the trolley. This option is a bit cheaper and it the popular choice for babushkas. There is an interesting rule of thumb when dealing with old women. If there is no seat available you must give up yours, however don't let them cut in line. They seem fragile but are actually quite spry and ready to take advantage of lax Americans.

Choice number three and my personal favorite is the marshrutka. It is smaller than a bus but bigger than a van. They don't always come to a full stop and yes, I have run after one. They also refuse to impose a passenger limit, so sometimes you stand bending at a 45 degree angle. Marshrutkas love to drive in the middle of the road and fly down cobblestone which turns us passengers to bobble heads.

One day Erin and I were riding to the bazaar in a marshrutka which we had run after. We were seated in the backwards section, gazing at all the other happy Ukrainians. As we briefly slowed for the bus stop I noticed a man running to catch us. It is not fun, the poor soul. However no one else noticed, by which I mean they all noticed and didn't care. So I yelled to the driver (who was one foot away) "Hey, that man is running!" In English.

Erin laughed her head off. The Ukrainians stared. The driver actually stopped. And the man that made it on has no idea he owes it to the only person in the entire country who doesn't speak Russian.

A roomy bus and yes, they still got the door closed.

Failure, Uzbekistan, and the New American Pastime

Suprise, suprise, once again it has been a very interesting week here in Poltava. If you know me, you know I am a nocturnal creature. Well, early (2 am) Tuesday morning I was lured onto Youtube where I proceeded to watch a several videos from fail blog. This is just a bunch of videos of people failing at various things, kinda like AFV. Anyway, after 30 mins of seeing people fail at everything, I decided to brush my teeth and go to bed.

I got up, walked to the bathroom, turned on the light and blew ALL the electricity in the entire apartment. Lightswitch: FAIL. I couldn't stop laughing, it was so ridiculous. So I went to tell Erin, who was well into her REM cycle by now, however I knocked over her water bottle and scared her to death. She then tried turning on the light, to which I responded, "Yeah, that's not going to work" and then laughed myself silly.

Nine hours, twelve Russian/English phone conversations, one translator, and one old Ukrainian landlord later, we got the electricity going again. Now I have Erin turn on the light every time I go into the bathroom. ;)

New food experiences this week: Fried Chicken Potato Chips (not a fan), various types of chocolate, lots of tea, ear cookies, zucchini, and Uzbeki food.

One of Erin's teachers, Margarita, is from Uzbekistan. She is such a kind woman and on Friday she invited us to dine in her home, Uzbeck style. We had Samsa, which is bread stuffed with pumpkin (not a sweet pumpkin, I couldn't exactly pinpoint the spices). There was also an eggplant and red pepper salad mix which is served cold and eaten with bread. Margarita then proceeded to heap mountains of plov onto our plates.

Plov is apparently the slavic equivalent of chili, because everyone has there own spin on it, however the base consists of rice and a chopped meat. Ours also had white raisins in it so as I was eating rice and meat I got a fruity burst of flavor. Suprise. I kept referencing the episode of friends where Rachel accidently makes a trifle with beef, peas, and onions. Luckily this did not taste like "feet" as did the trifle, actually, the plov was rather tasty.

We also visited the trendiest restaurant in Poltava; McDonalds. According to many Ukrainians, we Americans eat McDonalds every day. I would never in the states, but I could consider it here simply because the McDonalds here is awesome, and trendy, and the workers smile-it was quite the experience. You never would have guessed it was McD's from the pics. The only thing that might have tipped you off that you were not in America was the orthodox priest...in full regalia...sitting right behind us. Welcome to Ukraine.

My Cheezers

I made sure I took plenty of pictures at the TB Hospital this week. All the kids loved cheezin for the camera-especially Artyome. I was in charge of the craft this week which is more daunting than it sounds given the lack of art supplies. We decided to make paper beads, color them, and string them on pipe cleaners-they are totally styling.

Lost in Translation

Erin works closely with a local church in Poltava. Naturally, we attend service there on Sundays. Salvation Church is conveniently located a short distance from her apartment and as worship begins at 2 pm it makes for a lovely, leisurely Sunday. I have met so many wonderful people there and it is always interesting to attend church in a different country.

However, as I don't read, write, sing, or speak Russian, I tend to miss a lot even with interpretation. Luckily the Russian church environment plays to my people watching nature. Other than Sunday corporate worship, I rarely use singing in my praise time. It just isn't my natural choice of communion. But it has been so amazing to watch people worship, especially Christians who connect with God via song.

This past Sunday, while observing, there was a time when the passion of the congregation was practically palpable and God pressed upon me the beauty of my Ukrainian brothers and sisters. How, one day, we will join together in singing and communing with God without our human barriers. Without the hindrance of language, culture, or location. We will love God together with the fullness of our hearts, communing as one body, one family...what a glorious day it will be.

Walking to, walking fro, hill by hill, on we go.

At first I was confused by all the trim figures I encountered here. Especially considering the continuous diet of sugary baked goods, heavy starch dishes, and jam by the spoonfuls. Then I learned about the national pastime of Ukraine: walking for hours. And this is not just walking to get somewhere, it is their social lifeblood.

If you want to hang out with Ukrainians, you walk together for several hours. Sunday night the youth group got together and walked to a town which is thirty minutes away by bus. Now, that kind of walking is not my cup of tea. But I have enjoyed the many experiences during various walks around town with my new friends.

Last week Ira and Tanya walked with us to some local hotspots. We went to a lookout over Poltava where couples hang locks as a good luck charm for their relationship. We also visited a couple city monuments and of course, the bowl of galushki.

On Saturday we visited the Orthodox monastery with Nastia. It was SO beautiful inside but pictures aren't allowed. However, downstairs there was an infant baptism and I took audio of the priest chanting/praying while the baby cried. Inside you have to cover yourself and scarves/skirts were graciously provided outside. I think we pulled of the look quite well.

This is only audio from the church, not video!

If anything was ever a sporcle, that would be it.

Erin and I were invited to tea this morning at Victoria's house. She made us tea, then fed us fruit and jam. Just jam. Apparently you don't put it on bread here, all you need is a spoon. So that was a suprise.

Victoria has a summer home and brought us watermelon and grapes along with a new fruit which we could not identify. Victoria said it is called an indian pomegranate, but I have yet to find it on any website. Therefore Erin and I decided to call it a sporcle-it is quite interesting. It does seem to be distantly related to a pomegranate. It has a thick, ridged outer skin and you consume the red fruity pods inside. I will let you know if we end up being brave enough to eat it, for now we are observing. Apparently it needs to ripen but I can't decide if it looks less appetizing while green or yellow.