Entertaining Yourself in cool places around the globe

St. Michaels Cathedral Kyiv

EY Travel Tips: Ukraine

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In some ways living in Ukraine is not dissimilar from living in western Europe or even the United States: there are lots of cars, supermarkets, museums and other cultural attractions. But upon closer scrutiny Ukraine is still very much a developing country: public transport is slow, communities work and eat based on the seasonal calendar, most people hand-wash their clothes. That said, Ukraine has many interesting things to offer for the traveler. Below are a few recommendations based on my experiences over the past the ten months.

1. How to Travel: Buses and trains are numerous and are the cheapest ways to travel around the country. Be warned, travel is not fast. If you are torn between bus and train, buses tend to be slightly (30-60 minutes) quicker but slightly more expensive. Trains, though slower, are cheaper and more comfortable: in coupe (second class) and platzcart (third class) you are provided with bedding and can lie down and sleep (most long-distance trains are overnight).

2. Kyiv: Ukraine’s capital holds a few treasures worth seeing. Spend a day or two exploring the cathedrals – especially St. Sophia’s and St. Michael’s – and strolling down cobblestoned Andriyivs’ka Street, pausing to check out souvenir vendors. Walk down Khreshchatik, Kyiv’s main drag, lined with expensive stores and restaurants. Plan your walk for the weekend, when Khreshchatik is closed to cars between the Lenin statue and Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square). St. Michael’s Cathedral, Kyiv 2b. Eating in Kyiv is expensive. The cheapest non-supermarket food I have found in the city is a standard stop for traveling Peace Corps Volunteers who want a fast, cheap, filling meal on a budget. It’s a falafel restaurant on Starvoksal’na street, not far from the train station. Delicious falafel wraps start at 20 UAH (about $2.50). And they have hummus!

3. Because restaurants in Ukraine are expensive in most towns and cities, it is wise to shop at bazaars for the freshest and cheapest natural products. Bazaars are everywhere and have wide selections of just about any food item you could want. To save some money, stock up at the bazaar and have a picnic. Another cheaper option is finding a cafeteria (yidalnia) where you can sample traditional Ukrainian food at a lower price than a restaurant.

4. That said, it is fun to splurge once in a while at a restaurant. In L’viv I ate the best – and most expensive – restaurant meal I have had in Ukraine at a Jewish-themed restaurant, Pid Zolotoju Rozoju (“At the Golden Rose”). Apparently it is one of quite a few themed restaurants around the city. The premise at this one is that, after the meal, you haggle for the bill with your waiter; I think it attempts to (semi-insensitively) recreate some sort of “Jewish” custom. No prices are listed on the menu, so it is up to your negotiation skills to fix the price. My friends and I agreed on a maximum we could pay and our waiter opened negotiations at a ridiculously high price. We managed to get him to lower it by alternating bids with reasons like, “We’re poor volunteers here, teaching English! We love Ukraine!” It was unclear whether the waiter had previously set the bill total; it seemed so because eventually we got him down to a price that he would not go below. The haggling episode was jocular, and though the meal was expensive we were satisfied. (Side note: I am sure this system traps more than a few faint-hearted customers who give up negotiating at some point.) The service was excellent, and the food was delicious; I recommend the “Jewish spreads” sampler and the spiced wine.

5. While you are in L’viv, take time to wander around the central square’s cobblestoned streets and admire the architecture. There are two options for a great view of the city: pay 5 UAH to climb up the clock tower (ratusha) or – for free – take up to an hour to climb the hill and stairs of Vysokyy Zamok (“high castle”) to one of the highest points of the city. It is hard to choose which option I would recommend more; I got better pictures from the clock tower because it is right in the center, but Vysokyy Zamok gives you a better panorama of the entire city. If you have time, do both, but I would give Vysokyy Zamok a slight edge because it is free and higher up than the clock tower. Clock tower in the center of L’viv

 

 

6. From L’viv, since you are in the west, I recommend heading down to Chernivtsi, capital of the Chernivets’ka Oblast and once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire (as was much of the rest of western Ukraine). Like L’viv, Chernivtsi has beautiful architecture and even an abandoned Gothic-style German cathedral. In Chernivtsi you must walk through Shevchenko Park and down Kobalans’ka Street, the city’s pedestrian street in the center. On Kobalans’ka, spend an hour or two in the regional historical museum to gaze at old maps, tools, art, and traditional Ukrainian costumes. The docents are helpful and knowledgeable. If you get hungry for lunch, stop at Café Efes, just off Soborna Ploshcha (Cathedral Square). There is traditional and non-traditional cuisine, the pizza has real parmesan cheese, and the prices are reasonable for travelers on a budget.

7. Climb Mount Hoverla, Ukraine’s highest mountain at 2,061 meters. It is in the Carpathian Mountains of western Ukraine. It’s an easy day-hike and the views are gorgeous. My only advice: don’t do it in March! It is still quite cold, the lower trails through the woods were icy, and there was still slippery snow above the tree line. We were not even allowed to advance to the true summit because of the wind and ice at the top. I did the hike with some friends – and about 95 other Peace Corps Volunteers, along with 4-500 Ukrainians – as part of a big event organized by a Volunteer and her NGO. The Ukrainians arrived decked out in snow suits and heavy hiking boots, and some even had ski poles. Most of us Volunteers had not been quite as well-informed of the weather; my thin cotton leggings did not cut it at the top. This would be a fantastic hike in the summer, and I hope to do it next year in the warm months.

~Tammela~

Typical Countryside Residence

EY Travel Tips: MONGOLIA

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Why visit Mongolia?

Well there’re just about a million reasons. For starters the world’s second largest landlocked country (Nearby Kazakhstan ranks first) houses geographic diversity that rivals pretty much anywhere. There’s the snow capped mountains and Kazakh eagle hunters to the west; the vast Gobi Desert and great Central Asian Steppe in the south; reindeer herders in the Siberian forests of the north and the grasslands populated by native gazelle or Oryx to the east. Writing this, I’m wondering why I’m not there right now.

A successful population of the critically endangered Wild Asian or Przewalski’s Horse resides in Mongolia, as does 2-million year old Lake Khovsgul, which itself holds half-a-percent of the world’s potable water. Famed naturalist Roy Chapman Andrews—sometimes credited as the proto-Indiana Jones—discovered dino eggs in the Gobi and Genghis Khan launched an empire that linked Beijing to Baghdad to Babenberg, Austria. With the end of Soviet communism and institution of a capitalist democracy, Mongolia experienced incredible socio-economic change over two decades, but step a mile outside the capital, Ulaanbaatar, and enter a world where the felt tents and herders carry traditions held by the Mongols for millennia.

Now that you’re convinced, here are five tips for your trip.

1.       Dress Warm. Nuh-uh. Warmer

Mark Twain famously said the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Frankly, Mark Twain is a liar and moreover he’s never even been to Mongolia. The average temperature in Ulaanbaatar is freezing, meaning when you ask what’s the temperature, at any time of year, it’s quite probably freezing. Ulaanbaatar’s the coldest capital in the world. That means Reykjavík, that city in a land which, from my understanding, is literally made of ice, is warmer. When visiting Mongolia in winter, prepare like you would for a polar expedition: long underwear, solid winter jacket, winter gloves and liners and probably some sort of heat trapping mask. Summer days are warm, but like San Francisco, it can get nippy, especially at night, so bring clothes for hot and cold.

2.       Sunscreen

In addition to being one of the planet’s colder nations, Mongolia paradoxically ranks as one of the sunniest spots in the world. It’s generally accepted that the country gets over 250 cloudless days per year without a cloud in the sky, more sun than Yuma, Arizona. So for those afternoons out on the wide-open steppe when it’s just you, the Great Blue Sky, and the really hot, bright sun, UV protection makes the awe-inspiringness of nature less blistery and painful. You can buy some in UB, but selection may be limited, so consider bringing some from home.

3.       Make room for mutton.

There’s a good chance you will be offered a lot of mutton in Mongolia. “What’s on the menu?” you ask. Well, there’s mutton. Mutton with flour. Mutton with onions. Mutton with a side of mutton. There can be more—Ulaanbaatar has everything from Korean to vegetarian restaurants to fried chicken joints—but outside of the city your options are generally limited, so you may want to accustom the palate to boiled sheep meat. Unusual dairy products like dry curdled sheep milk to fermented horse milk is everywhere, so bring lactase tablets if you have difficulty digesting milk and want to sample the traditional food. Fun fact: Mongolian BBQ is as Mongolian as McDonalds is Scottish. The closest thing to barbecue in Mongolia is Boodog: goat or marmot cooked by placing hot rocks in its stomach. Less fun fact: marmot meat can carry bubonic plague. I recommend the goat.

4.       Be kind to the Khan.

Mongolians have a deserved reputation for hospitality and generosity and while pick pocketing does occur in the capital, it’s generally a pretty safe place. Mongolia is a peaceful democracy that’s managed to maintain good relations with both North Korea and the United States, but the heart of the nation is still ruled with an iron fist by Genghis Khan. In the wrong company, a bad word about national hero Genghis Khan is considered a fighting word. Yes, by some estimates he killed 10 percent of the world’s population in his day, but he was also brilliantly innovative and remarkably tolerant of the freedom of his subjects given the time period. Mongolians view him as a Goergebraham Roosevelt, the embodiment of everything great about the nation, a one-man Mount Rushmore. After being barred from revering their national hero under Soviet rule, the adoration has returned in force. His name appears on everything, from the airport to hair salons, so the temptation to bring him up is everywhere. If you’re at a bar, keep it positive.

5.       A little Mongolian goes a long way.

Sain Bainuu (hello) and Bayarlaa (thank you) are good to know. Mongolians are very responsive, and sometimes amused, when foreigners speak to them in Mongolian. When you’ve been in town for a bit Zuun, Chigiree, Baruun Tiish, the words for left, straight and right turn respectively, can be very handy for getting around. Street names aren’t commonly used in the country, so directions are often given in a series of turns. For transportation, licensed taxis are rare (although word is this may be improving)  and while nearly every car in the capital is willing to serve as an unofficial cab, they may not know where you’re asking them to go.  Provided you know where you’re going, you can help them.

~Will~

A world traveler hailing originally from the hills of California, William Kennedy currently resides in London, England.  His time spent living in Mongolia left many lasting impressions. 

“Did you know?

That the number of livestock in Mongolia is 20 times more than the country population? Number of livestock is 42 million and the population number is 2.9 million people.

That Ulaanbaatar is a True Nomad? The city changed its locations 29 times before settling in its present day location.”

For more tidbits visit the Official Tourism Website of Mongolia

The Red Dirt Highlands of Western Kenya

Where Dreams Don’t Fade

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In the red-dirt highlands of western Kenya, 200 miles from the capital, Nairobi, rests the 4,000-person town of Iten. Remotely situated among the peaks and basins of the Great Rift Valley, the settlement’s 2,400-meter elevation and female mayor distinguish it from many Kenyan towns, but it’s truly extraordinary for another reason. Iten, as well as nearby Eldoret, form the epicenter of Kenyan running culture. Today hundreds of athletes—some aspiring, some well-established—train in these towns at camps founded by former and current champions.

People from all over Kenya and the world trek like pilgrims to the region for training; this year my friend Martin Mudry and his one-time cross country teammate, Alex Nichols, made the journey, but not just to run. They’re making Where Dreams Don’t Fade, a documentary about three Kenyan runners and the sprit that drives the world’s most decorated running nation.

In many ways, Iten represents the ideal place to capture the essence of great running. For pure saturation of speed, few if any place can rival the town and the surrounding area, where the Kalenjiin tribe have lived and trained on their way to winning more international medals in 800-meter to marathon races than anyone. Not every Kenyan blazes on the track or trails, but Alex said, “The percentage of people in Kenya we would consider runners has to be so much higher than it is in the US.”

Martin and Alex both enjoyed running success in the United States. A year after a 2007 trip to a running camp in Ngong—just southwest of Nairobi—hosted by Olympic Silver Medalist Wilson Boit Kipketer, Martin finished second in the Minnesota Athletic Conference cross country championship. Alex has top-five finishes in major trail races, including the grueling Pikes Peak Ascent; but now they’re shooting film while living and training beside world record holders.

Kenya, Martin says, is a place where many people are literally the best or “believe they can be the best runner.” To an unaccustomed observer, therefore, the camps can seem surreal. “It’s like a lot of amateur basketball players being invited to train with LeBron James, and then stay in his pool house,” he said.

While approaching “King” James about documenting his life and shooting some hoops with his entourage might sound intimidating, the attitude of Kenya’s future and current greats made the two filmmaker’s initial job easy, and bolstered their running confidence at the same time.

“They make you feel welcome,” Alex said. “It doesn’t feel like a big deal that they’re the best in the world.”

The great runners, Martin added, “the guys that are superfast, they’re not going to avoid you because you have a slow personal record. Everyone’s allowed to run together and it’s always encouraged, and that makes you feel like you can run a 2:10 marathon—maybe it’s not true, but you feel that way.”

The unflappable belief and determination of Kenyan runners constitutes the core of Where Dreams Don’t Fade. The film specifically documents three Kenyan runners in various stages of chasing their goals: Robert, a talented runner in high school, who aggravated back injuries in the military and started a family and business while waiting to train again; Virginia, a college graduate trying to get a job so she can afford to train full-time in Iten, so she can make money and get a Masters; and Alex, the brother of a Bronze Medalist at the Track and Field World Championships, who is training at the camp in the hopes of attracting a full-time manager.

Martin and Alex, who currently live at the camp of James Kwalia, himself a Bronze Medalists at the World Championships in 5000m, chose the trio because of their on-screen charisma and the nature of their stories. Like many Kenyans, Martin said, “they’re pursuing running in the face of many challenges, but what’s more unique is that all three are going after these running dreams even though they don’t have to or even though they could be pursuing other things.”

Capturing the paths of three distinct lives on film has its share of rewards, but also challenges, largely from a scheduling point of view. After making the important creative decisions in the first month, Alex and Martin set to logging the dozens of hours of footage they’ll likely need, but progress isn’t nearly as fast as the morning training sessions they attend.

Miscommunications happen, meetings get missed, and “people don’t always know where they’re going to be in two hours,” Alex said. “They think they’re going to have lunch, but maybe they decide to go on a long run.”

For people making a running documentary in Kenya, however, runs serve more often as sources of amazement than of frustration. “There are so many people at such a high level here, you can see a world record holder being beaten in a workout by some person you’ve never heard of,” Alex said. “It’s just exciting you can be a part of it.”

As for their own goals, Martin and Alex look toward September, when they hope to have Dreams edited in time for a submission to the Sundance Film Festival.

~Will~

Where Dreams Don’t Fade is now available for purchase on DVD

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mongolian celebration

Sunny Spot Travel Tips

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JULY 2011 – Celebrating Independence & Freedom

We’re introducing a new feature this month:  Sunny Spot Travel Tips.    What better way to experience independence than by traveling?  Flying high – breezing down a highway – trekking up a mountain – running in the jungle, swimming in the ocean – or just strolling down a street and discovering the world’s best cup of coffee!  Our writers travel the globe for their own entertainment and adventure and they bring their stories to life on this website under our Sunny Spot page.

Now we’ve decided to take it a step further by providing some unique TIPS on making the most of YOUR travel to these fun and sometimes exotic places.

For example – did you know that in a lovely little back-yard of a private residence, in a small town just outside of Iguazu Falls in Argentina, asking only for a donation, the owners will invite you to enjoy a breathtaking opportunity to watch and feed hummingbirds (as well as parrots, and other colorful Aves).

And this is the truth:  If you can sit very still, the hummingbirds will actually land on your fingers to feed from the globe in your hand!  Talk about a Zen experience.

So How was this out of the way and off the beaten track place discovered?  Rosemary was traveling in the area and coincidentally ran into a friend from college who had just been there because he had heard about it from another friend who had stumbled across it on her travels in the area!  Amazing all the way around!

And here’s a special offer to our readers:  If you’re planning a trip to any of our Sunny Spots (or even a place we haven’t written about) – we invite you to send us a note with your questions and we’ll give you our perspective on the best ways of Entertaining Yourself while you’re on the road or overseas.

Because traveling beyond your everyday life (either for real or through someone else’s account) is an amazing way of experiencing the joy of freedom and growth.

-EY Staff-

 

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Never Say Never!

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Running In Strasbourg

NASA Satellite View of Strasbourg

December 31, my senior year of high school, I made two resolutions. One: Take a year to travel. 2) Never run again. Weeks earlier, at the Northern California Sectional Cross Country Championship, I’d shaved my head, laced my flats, sprinted across pavement and grass, and finished sixth. The top five went to the state meet, and I’d been passed in the last twelve meters. One second ruined my four-year career.

Fast forward eight months. I’d spent the day along the banks of the River Ill in Strasbourg, enjoying Alsace’s overlap of French and German culture and eating bacon for the first time. It had been pleasant to wander around ornately shingled beerhouses, Parisian-style cafés and apartments, but I hadn’t seen much of the city I’d soon have to leave. I decided to break my resolution, just for a day.

The sun had disappeared, but my host family said I could run to Strasbourg Cathedral. It wasn’t far: just follow the tram tracks from the house to the church. September was approaching; I felt cold and ridiculous in my zip-off cargo shorts and t-shirt, but my legs felt free. My watch showed it was later than I thought, already nine o’clock. Everything looked different under the moon.

After ten-minutes steady progress the tracks split unexpectedly. There was no one on the streets to ask for directions (not that I would), but I had a fifty-fifty chance and could always retrace my steps. I headed left.

Fifteen minutes later I looked up, winded, and saw the Cathedral’s dark spire well away to my right. I didn’t backtrack, but decided to cut across through a tall row of offices, one bridge and then another and then a broad deserted street. My sweat turned cold and my knees ached. The buildings stopped looking postcard-worthy and there was no site of the Cathedral—the city’s assorted church bells struck ten o’clock.

Sounds of a highway traffic emerged and I found myself standing before an overpass. Strasbourg is a city of almost 900,000 people. I hadn’t realized that. I turned 180 degrees and tried to run back the way I came. Nothing looked familiar. At eleven o’clock I rediscovered the tram tracks, but didn’t know which way to follow them. I stopped running, rested my hands on my knees and debated the relative merits of looking for a way home versus sleeping under a bridge. My breathing came fast and shallow; my brain labored to the point where it didn’t notice a small Peugeot rolling along the tracks.

A horn honked—my host family’s car. I got in the back sheepishly. “I am so, so sorry” I said in bad French and tired English. They laughed. “It’s ok. We thought we’d never find you.”

We rode in silence for a while. My shirt and shorts stuck to the seat, as I looked out at more recognizable sights. Before he parked the father asked, “So, how was your run?”

I took a deep breath. My chest hurt like after a race.

“You know what?” I said. “It was great. I think I’ll go again tomorrow.”

~Will~

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TRAVEL RULES – 101

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Running in China

This story was a submission to EntertainingYourself.com’s first ever “Best Running Story in a Foreign Country Writing Contest” – April 2011. Our story’s author, EY Contributor, Martin Mudry, an avid traveler and runner, is currently filming a documentary in Kenya called “Where Dreams Don’t Fade.” You can follow his latest project on a special facebook page devoted to the movie.  Or check back here for more stories to come!

Carl had just arrived in China. Wade, Megan and I picked him up at the airport in Kunming, the city he’d be spending the next 4 months in for his study abroad. While Wade, Megan and I had been traveling around China together for a few weeks, Carl should have been tired, jet lagged, and ready for bed. So what did we do? Immediately upon returning to the hostel we made him take a shot of one of the strongest and foulest drinks known to man called Baijiu. At $.50 for the equivalent of 5 shots, it also must be one of the cheapest drinks available anywhere.

The rest of the first night was pretty tame. We walked around a bit past some empty stores, through the big square where our hostel was located and then went to bed. The next morning we all went out to breakfast together before bidding Wade and Megan goodbye, as they flew back up north to the city where they are both teaching.

Once they left, Carl had quite a bit on his plate. He had just arrived at altitude, (Kunming’s altitude is 1,800 meters ~6,500ft); he was with someone who has a dairy allergy but doesn’t speak any Chinese; he was adjusting to a 13 hour time difference from where he had just come; oh yeah, and this was his first time traveling outside of the United States, EVER!

So as a good friend, what did I do to ease the transition? Take it easy for a few days? No! Carl and I immediately headed out to the city outskirts and hiked into the nearby mountains where I had previously seen a few hotels. We hiked up to an even higher elevation at which point the real fun began- watching Carl barter for a room with people in Chinese. The problem was, aside from Carl not having practiced Chinese for a few months, he also had to speak to people who barely knew Mandarin- the only dialect he had been taught.

We checked out one place, which seemed nice, but the price was a bit high, so we decided to check out another knowing we could always come back and try to drive the price down more.

At the second place, the guy showed us rooms but opened each door by sliding open the room window first and then unlocking the door from the inside with his hand. But the price seemed right after a little negotiation, so we made the decision to stay and asked for the room key.

What? The guy didn’t seem to understand. “The key to the room” Carl said again in Chinese. He seemed very confused and reluctant, but took a key off a key chain that appeared to hold only the master keys. We went back to the room, where I took a closer look at the window- thinking: “Great, no lock, so the key is useless per his little trick to get in.”

As I debated whether we should leave our stuff in the room while we went for a run, I realized that there was a key to the bathroom and if we locked our stuff in there, chances were he wouldn’t be able to get past that second door.

So with our passports and cash secured behind one door with virtually no lock and behind another door as flimsy as balsa wood, we went out for a quick walk and then a run.

As we were leaving with our backpacks to explore the area, we ran into the guy who had given us the room and key. He asked us for the keys. Carl tried to tell him that we had it, but he kept asking for it. I, of course, didn’t know what he was saying, although it was pretty clear that he was motioning for the keys. Finally Carl told him for the 4th time that we were just going for a walk; that we would be coming back; and that we were taking the key but would give it back before we checked out.

On the run we went through small villages, down single track trails and came upon some kids. They appeared utterly terrified and I’m sure the youngest thought the foreigners were going to kill her and leave her dead in the forest. We tried to tell them it was OK and the older ones actually start to laugh, but one of the youngest continued to run in terror.

We ducked by some houses and got back out onto a main road. A few more times we took trails that came to dead ends. One looked nice but quickly ended at a small temple in the hillside. Another led us down a path toward a village but soon we were surrounded by huge German shepherds, which while chained, were barking furiously, giving us the clear message about which way to go (back the way we came). We wandered through more fields, before finally coming to a trail that led down a steep path and crossed a beautiful hill of tall grass.

It reminded me a lot of the hills on the coasts of Northern California, with little halftrack trails. Carl was out running in front when all of a sudden he slipped. The image flashed before me of Carl tripping and tumbling a hundred feet down the steep slope. Luckily he caught himself.

Feeling like my mother, I warned him: “Be careful Carl.” “I know” he said. A few minutes later, he tripped again, and then again. I felt at a loss, and could picture having to call his parents to tell them how he slid down a hill in rural china. Again, with a little luck, we found a way up and over and finally were on the path heading back to the hotel.

We planned to go out to eat, but after a shower Carl was exhausted and just wanted to call it an early night. I didn’t blame him. When Wade Megan and I first arrived at altitude, we took it really easy. With Carl, I’d had him hiking, running, and translating from day one and maybe the jet lag was finally catching up with him. I read for a bit then lay down as well and we both dozed off until 9:30 pm or so.

We were both awake and talking when we heard a car pull in and the doors slam. Then, all of a sudden, loud piano music. It sounded so real – could there be a piano somewhere??

Carl and I were like what the ??, until the background music started and people started singing karaoke in Chinese for the next few hours. The music randomly went from loud to unbearable at no discernable intervals.

The absurdity of the situation – high up above Kunming, on the border of mountains and farmland – people were blasting music and singing as if their sole goal was to break glass.

Hours later the music stopped. Then we heard footsteps coming downstairs to where our room was. Then there was someone at the door trying to get in. We tried to say hello, but then the window slid open. I quickly got up to turn on the light as Carl yelled “What do you want?? We’re in here” in Chinese. As I turned on the light, whoever was there left quickly and that was the last we heard of them.

The next morning, we got up early and caught the sunrise on the hill. It was completely quiet and we were the only people. It was a complete 180 from the day I had discovered the place with Wade and Megan.  That day it was New Years and there were hundreds of Chinese people in high heels, suits, and dress shoes, miraculously scrambling over the rocks and shouting to each other across the valleys. This time we were alone and the light was perfect.

We hiked around a little more before returning to our room to gather our stuff to leave. Our friend who was so worried about our keys and maybe was the one trying to come into our room the night prior was no where to be found.  We left the keys with his wife and headed out.

We had 20 miles to hike and many more memories to be had before the day was up.  It may have only been Carl’s first few days in China, but it was important that he learn the rules to successful travel- do it while you can, push yourself, and don’t forget to go for a run.

~Martin~

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Highlands, Low Budget – Scotland Part IV

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Part IV

Ben Nevis and Glen Nevis

(This story is a continuation of Part I: London to Inverness ,                Part II: Inverness to Loch Ness and Part III: Kyle of Lochalsh to Fort William)

View of Glen Nevis from Ben Nevis

Sunday, our last day in Scotland, we followed Benny’s directions to Cow Hill for a view of the mighty, 4,000-foot hump of Ben Nevis and its verdant adjoining valley, Glen Nevis.  Zigzagging up the ridge, the sun shone unimpeded for the first time on our trip. We chased sheep, lay in the sweet heather and made up stories about a Highland Goliath as older hikers passed us. I promised to be less of a miser—within reason.

Atop the hill we saw the sparkling expanse of Loch Linnhe and Fort William, and finally got a peek at Ben Nevis as it emerged from its cloudy wreath. We chased sheep back down the hill before returning to town. We only had a few hours left, but Bijani had one more thing on her agenda: the Harry Potter Waterfall in Glen Nevis.

It was too far to walk, and the only way to get there was by cab. I wanted to renege on my promise.

“You only get to go to Scotland once, but we have the rest of our lives to be broke,” I muttered.

“What’s that?”  Bijani asked.

“Nothing.”

The taxi driver pointed out the sights along the way: a field where Mel Gibson filmed a “Braveheart”  battle, hiring local amputees to fill in as the wounded; a bunch of shaggy highland cattle. He kindly agreed to pick us up in four hours.

***

A thin but strong current ran along the path to Glen Nevis. We walked through ferns and conifer trees. It seemed like a long way to go for sights from a movie. I walked ahead, rounding a bend past the stony face of a huge boulder and into the opening of the valley. A vast meadow unveiled itself. In the foreground stood the cloudy edifice of Ben Nevis; in the background, the forked deluge of Steall Falls.

A wire bridge traverses the stream to the waterfall trail, and gripping the coiled metal I forgot my fear of heights in the pale mist from the falls and the smell of wet grass. We ran slipping and losing our shoes in the thick mud, to the base of the falls.

It was time to return to the cab. I looked over my shoulder one more time as we re-rounded the bend. Bijani and I waited in the parking lot for the cab that would take us back to the train that would bring us down from the Highlands to our cold London apartment.  I looked in my wallet. I had $30, just enough for the return trip and to buy some snacks for our homeward journey.

“What a wonderful trip,” I said to Bijani and smiled.

She hugged me and for a moment I felt rich.

The End…(for now)

~Will~

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Highlands, Low Budget – Scotland Part III

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Part III

Kyle of Lochalsh to Fort William

(This story is a continuation of Part I: London to Inverness and          Part II: Inverness to Loch Ness)

Eilean Donan Inside View

Kyle of Lochalsh  is notable for many reasons, depending on your priorities. It’s home to remarkably inexpensive fish and chips for example. A bay borders the one-mill town, which looks onto the Isle of Skye, while the restored Eilean Donan Castle, made famous by such movies as Highlander and the romantic comedy Made of Honor, lies aways to the East. Kyle also marked the penultimate leg of our journey before phase Harry Potter began in full.

Rain greeted us in the tiny town, as did a wryly good-natured fish and chips salesmen.

“How ya liking the weather?”

“It’s nice.”

“Sunny enough for ya?”

“We’d feel cheated if it was. We wanted the authentic Scottish experience.”

“It donna get more authentic than this.”

Bijani and I had taken a morning train from Inverness across the heart of the highlands—with its snow dusted mountains, its bright grassy valleys, its steely rivers and lakes—and if this trip and the stormy sound of Lochalsh represented the real Scotland , I was prepared to sign up for a lifetime membership.

***

An hour later we hopped on a bus that carried us along similar terrain south toward Fort William, on the shores of the beautiful Loch Linnhe. It’s a bed and breakfast town, not as picturesque as Inverness, but shadowed  by the 4,409 foot peak of Ben Nevis.

In town we found more rain and Benny, the friendly Englishman and transplanted owner of Invernevis, a handsome stone B&B with twin gables that overlooked the lake.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” he said as he took our bags.

“Yes,” we said in unison.

Bijani and I both ordered a traditional Scottish Breakfast, before heading to the Jacobite Train, named for the anti-British revolutionaries, now commonly known as the Hogwarts Express. The classic, black engine puffed smoke onto the platform and excited children ages 3 to 70 rushed into the cars, “just like in the movie!” The beautiful look accounted for the train’s finest attribute, and I couldn’t help note that another half-price train ran along the same tracks, to the same destination.

“You know, we could’ve just looked at this train and taken a ride on the other one,” I said as we boarded.

“Humbug,” Bijani laughed.

The Jacobite Train does not go to a school of wizardry, but rather Mailag, the dainty western-most port town in the UK. Locals say its home to Scotland’s best fish and chips. Best usually means expensive. As we chugged along, the ashy-white mountains and whaleskin lakes lying starkly against green and yellow grasses lost some of their luster.

In Mailag I loitered around the station, ordered fish and chips, vowed never to eat fish and chips again and got back on the train in an antagonistic mood.

“You know we could have saved fifty…”

“You don’t get it,” Bijani said.

We missed the famous aqueduct bridge on the way back because we were fighting. We went to bed in a bad mood back at Invernevis.

…To Be Continued in Part IV – The Final Installment!

~Will~

Location of the Sniatyn Raion (District) in Ukraine

Chance Encounters of a Good Kind

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Location of the Sniatyn Raion (District) in Ukraine

This story was a submission to EntertainingYourself.com’s first ever “Best Running Story in a Foreign Country Writing Contest” – April 2011. Our story’s author, Tammela Platt, is currently serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in a town in southwest Ukraine. She writes “I have been in Ukraine since last September and at my permanent site since December.” She heard about the contest from a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, Runner, Oberlin Graduate and EY Writer: Samantha Kyrkostas.

This is a story about an incomplete run. An incomplete run thanks to the incredible openness and hospitality of the Ukrainian people.

Sniatyn’s stadium in winter. There is a cement track around the soccer field.

While doing a speed workout at my town’s stadium – 100-meter repeats, sprinting down the straightaway and jogging back – on the first day of February, I kept running by a woman taking a toddler for a walk – rather, he was walking her. On one of my recovery jogs, the woman called me over and asked me something – in Ukrainian, of course – about my running that I didn’t quite understand (upon reflection I think she asked how fast I run 100 meters; that day was not an especially fast day). When I told her I didn’t understand (Я не розумію/“Ya ne rozoomiyoo” – probably the first three words I mastered in Ukrainian), she said, “Oh, are you Polish?” It’s the blond hair and blue eyes. Or the assumption many Ukrainians make that anyone here who doesn’t speak fluent Ukrainian must be from Poland. When I told her I’m American and talked a little about the Peace Corps and why I’m here, she asked me to wait until her daughter (mother of the toddler) came back and then invited me directly to their apartments in the building across from the stadium. “Right now?” I asked. She answered in the affirmative. What could I say but yes? Sure, I would have liked to finish my workout, but it would have been stupid to refuse this offer from such a genuine woman.

Zhenia & Tanya's Apartment -To the right, behind the fence, is the stadium. Far center-right is the apartment building complex where Zhenia and Tanya live.

So off we went, Zhenia (Женя, short for Yevhenia (Євгенія)), the not-so-old grandmother, and Tanya (Таня, short for Tetiana), her daughter, guiding me across the street and up the stairs of their building, chattering the whole time about how glad they were to meet me and how I would be welcome anytime and must come see them. They showed me around their apartments and then, in typical Ukrainian fashion, sat me down with tea – despite the fact that I was sweaty from my run and surely did not smell sweet – and offered me some delicious cheese pancakes (called сирники/“syrnyky”) as we talked for a while about Ukraine and America. When it started to get dark I pleaded work to do and, full of snacks and happy feelings, jogged slowly home. Meeting Zhenia and Tanya was a great cap-off to what had already been a great day: I had talked with my 11th Form about Romanticism in art, had sung “My Favorite Things” to my 3rd Form, and had gotten three boxes in the mail. Days like that make spending two years in Ukraine a little less daunting.

And it all started with a run.

~ Tammela Platt~

Scottish Lady

Highlands, Low Budget – Scotland Part II

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Part II

Inverness to Loch Ness

(This story is a continuation of Part I: London to Inverness )

Inverness to Loch Ness

Adventures shouldn’t start without breakfast, but Bijani decided nothing would suit us better than traditional Scottish Breakfast. She chose the Castle Café, which had all Scotch delicacies on order: mutton, blood pudding and of course, haggis—that’s sheep heart, liver and lungs and oats, boiled for hours in the animal’s mid-section. I ordered pancakes.

The waitress treated us very pleasantly, especially after I shook a container of brown liquid onto my pancakes, took a bite and gagged. “That’s not syrup, dear,” she said over her shoulder, “that’s vinegar.” Taking pity on me, she brought over a fresh stack of pancakes.

My genetic inheritance didn’t include an iron stomach, but after some arm twisting I discovered haggis and blood pudding taste more hearty than terrible: the former tastes like meaty Quaker oats, and the latter like dry, slightly metallic burger.  We ate almost everything before leaving. Next stop: neighboring Loch Ness  and Uruqhart Castle, but first an hour of sightseeing.

It seemed a quiet and even solemn Friday. Inverness’ McDonald’s proved a hub of activity, but screeching tires, a horn and a crash from the pedestrian mall thinned the crowd as people ran to investigate. Sounds of backfire and breaking glass gave way to loud music, as though a driver’s hand suddenly switched the car radio to full volume.

Bijani and I joined a now-large assembly, expecting an accident, but saw only an old lady with a bonnet and umbrella, riding a tall two-wheeled shopping cart, her legs dangling from the side. Then there was another. And another. The trio raced around the brick street on their carts, revving unseen engines, honking unseen horns and grooving to a bagpipe-heavy rendition of “Everybody Dance Now.”

A closer inspection revealed these petticoated grannies to be men in drag, riding converted Segways, with fake appendages on the outside, but that only raised more questions. I laughed, until I finally asked Bijani, what was going on?

..Check out the Scottish Ladies on our facebook page..

She had no idea. The guidebook hadn’t mentioned Scottish humor. After a few minutes, we ducked into a dollar store and questioned the cashier about the “ladies.”

“No one knows,” she said. “They just arrived yesterday. Scotland’s a wee bit crazy like that. Some days things just happen.”

(It stayed a mystery until that evening, when a grizzled pub owner responded to my very earnest query: “They’re not serious, ya know… They’re clowns.” He was still laughing when we finished our fish and chips and left.)

***

Amber birch and reddening ferns lined the road from Inverness to Uruqhart Castle, which skirts the edges of Loch Ness. Long, narrow and pristine, the lake widens briefly before its shore peaks at a tiny cape, dotted by the ruins.

The MacDonald clan, the castle’s last keepers, blew it up because the site proved indefensible and therefore, I imagine, too expensive to maintain. One sympathizes, but the decision must have been difficult because the lake glimmers magnificently, even under the faintest light.

Shapes of the Purported Sightings of the Loch Ness Monster as shown on Wikipedia

Bijani and I walked down the steps toward the stone towers overlooking the water. Rain alternated between sheets and drizzle, but for a moment the sun broke through the bank of clouds to make a golden pathway on Loch Ness. We clambered through various passageways and chambers, taking occasional shelter, and searching for Nessie. We didn’t spot the monster, however, until we stopped in the small town of Drumnadrochit on the road back to Inverness.

Large enough for a single convenience store, the town found room for rival monster museums: the Loch Ness 2000 Exhibition Center (formerly the Official Loch Ness Exhibition Center) and the adjacent Original Loch Ness Exhibition Center. Both were closed, but one had erected a goofy-faced fiberglass Nessie, and we hopped on for a quick free ride.

Adventures shouldn’t end without dinner, so Bijani and I returned to Inverness for some affordable and surprisingly good fish and chips, then headed back to the hostel to prepare for our upcoming trip across the Highlands.

…To Be Continued in Part III: Kyle of Lochalsh to Fort William

~Will~