проблема вода! (we've got an emercency!)

Leaving L'viv wasn't as easy as living it. What a great town.

Unfortunately there was some rain during the afternoon, so I went (as you do) for a haircut. I wandered into a neighbourhood away from the centre and found a barbershop. Wow, I must have met the most conscientious hairdresser in the world (sorry dad). Every hair, one by one, was scrutinised, measured and if judged too long carefully shortened. And I have to say, great haircut. Too bad it's hidden under my safety helmet most of the time...

In the evening I went to a jazz bar for a beer, or at least, so I tried. The waiter had no idea what I meant with "odyn pivo.. one beer.. ein Bier.." (all this accompanied by the international sign language of the hand holding an imaginary glass and moving it towards the mouth). Now, my Ukrainian pronounciation might have been off, and I really don't expect anyone in the world to understand English, let alone German, but for a waiter in a bar in a big city, not to understand such a simple and common request was special to me. His colleague understood me right away.


In the bar I met with Vlodko, a furniture designer ("kitchens and cubboards") whose dream it is to build skyscrapers. He told me about some of the places I had seen earlier that day. The street where we were for example houses the oldest church, an Armenian church from the 14th century, of the city. Opposite the church you can find the first bank of the city, an old building that is now used as a residence. interesting to see these old places and imagine how the city has grown around them. Vlodko also told me that the city used to have a river, but that it was put underground and serves as a sewer nowadays. The opera theater was built on top of the river and started to crumble down because of it. Fortunately this process was stopped and reversed because it's a magnificant building.


From L'viv I cycled eastwards to Ternopil, a ride that started out on the M12, but became interesting when I took the turn to Lypivka. Beautiful, sloping countryside with here and there a small village. The bus stops that are richly decorated with mosaic, were a nice detail. Late that afternoon I made it to Ternopil, a mid-sized city (approx. 300.000 inhabitants) 130 kilometers away from L'viv. Here I was invited by Alla, Alex and their 8 months old daughter Ilona. It was great to spend time with them and teach them some Dutch, which they were eager to learn. From some simple phrases like 'eet smakelijk' (Bon appétit (got it AJ?), or 'smachnogo' in Ukrainian), they soon got to the more advanced level of language usage. We were having sweet corn for breakfast and Alla thought Alex was eating like this particular pink animal with a tail like a corkscrew. "Koen, what's the word for pig in Dutch?", she asked me. "That would be 'varken'", I answered, adding that this is indeed a very ugly sounding word. "Oh, it sounds just fine", Alla said, repeating the word looking in Alex' general direction. Then Alex asked me: "Koen, how do you say 'shut up' in Dutch?"


Well, it was very funny to hear them speaking Dutch, and Ilonska soon became 'Smakelik' and 'Skatje' ('little treasure' in Dutch pronounced with an Ukrainian accent) by which it replaced the Italian nick-name 'Bambina', the legacy of an Italian couchsurfer. Actually, Alex surprised me with his general knowledge when he asked me if I knew 'til ulenspigel'. "Til ulenspigel", I repeated, not knowing what he was talking about, but then it came to me. Of course: Tijl Uilenspiegel, the Dutch/Flemish/German prankster from the 14th century! A classic that I have never read, but that Alex knew ("there's not much to it, it's only about drinking and fighting... You can start reading at any given page and immediately find yourself in either a binge, or a fight", he summarised the work of Charles de Coster).

Speaking about drinking, on our city walk Alex introduced me to the illustrious 'kvas', a yeast product that unlike beer doesn't contain alcohol, when we came across what I first mistook for a public toilet, but was in fact a kvas store. The copper-coloured structure had a lady sitting next to it, who was operating the tap. Alex asked me if I'd ever tried kvas, which I didn't, and although it is golden rule of mine to try things that are unknown to me, I answered "No, but I am fine, thanks." "No no, you have to try this!" and he ordered a glass and handed it to me. So there I stood with my glass of kvas and tried a small sip. Then I was sure, it was a public toilet and they were taking the piss. Literally. And actually, my friends were all standing in circle around me, looking at me with their smily faces. "Is this a joke?", I asked, and handed the glass to a girl. "Here, try", which she did and then her face also resembled a dried fruit. "This is really bad kvas, it tastes like toilet water!", she cried out. Now, I don't think I have ever drunk toilet water, but I think she was right. Alex apologised and told me it normally tastes good. Alex, if you are reading this, you are right! During the last couple of days I tried it on several occassions and it's a really refresing beverage!
(Picture shows Ukrainian playground.)

From Ternopil I continued my ride to Nyrkiv, a tiny village Alex had told me of, where the river Dnister has a waterfall. It was a tough ride, with a lot of sun and... my first punctured tire. Luckily I noticed it after a short break, so I unpacked the bike, put it upside down and started plugging the hole. When I was almost finished the farmer whose farm I was standing in front came out and looked at me and the bike. Q&A-time (one to four I understand even though I don't speak Ukrainian, or maybe I have it completely wrong and they ask me totally different things that I answer by: 'Hollandia', 'Pekin', 'velosyped', 'odyn' and they think, "hmm, strange Dutch guy that answers questions like: "would you like to eat something?", with 'Hollandia'), and then he looked at me putting back the tupe into the tire. Those of you who have ever repaired a punctured tire know that it is quite difficult to get the tire onto the wheel again, especially when it is a new and therefore rigid. I was using my tire levers trying to get the job done, but then the farmer interfered. With his big hands he took the tire and by using his thumps he pushed back the inflexible rubber. "Done", he must have said. As I started putting the packs back on he hurried inside, only to come back a little later with a bottle of hot water and a piece of soap. I washed my hands, and when we both noticed that the grease on my hands was stronger than the soap, he went inside again. When he came back he had something that I think can only be found in car garages and my parents' kitchen: real mechanics' scrup! That did the trick, and a few minutes later I was back on the road with clean hands.


(Many shop owners still use a counting frame.) It was difficult to find the village of Nirkyv with my map where every centimetre stands for 25 kilometres, so around seven I started looking for a place to stay for the night. I wanted to test my tent already for a while so I looked for a good spot, but every random dirt road I took lead me to some people with cars and drinks, having a night out. I continued to the next town, Yazlovets, and when I took the first road to the right, I came across an old monastery, home of the 'Sisterhood of the Immaculate Conception of Blessed Virgin Mary' (not that I could read this of the façade, I got this from the information brochure that was given to me with breakfast, together with a small 'carte de prière', so that I can safe my soul in french). I knocked at the door and signed the international language for sleeping (two hands with the palms against each other placed under one ear, with the head slightly bent to the side of the hands). If I also wanted a meal (nun signing hand holding imaginary spoon held in front of mouth moving back and forward)? Definitely! So a little later I had a great dinner with soup, potatoes, salad, fish and bread, and tea inside a cup with Snow White and the seven dwarves on it. Maybe it was because I didn't pray for the meal (I did however thank the cook!) that they gave me the prayer card the next morning.


After the meal, the caretaking nun took me to my room, where she left me alone. As I prepared for a shower, a problem presented itself: a leaking toilet that had flooded the bathroom floor and wet the bathroom carpet. "Hmm, how will I explain this", I thought when I quickly put back on my cloths. I hurried down through the big halls (the type of hallway where you hear a nun passing quickly, making the swooshing sound with her garment) and found the same nun that had lead me to the room. "Problem voda!" I said, and she understood me immediately. Swooshing her way in front of me we hurried back to the room. She had a quick look, fumbled with the flush, and then decided that this was up to higher powers. She left and came back with what I think is the technical nun. Skilfully she examined the problem took some tools from her kit and in a few minutes it was fixed. "Djakuju", I said thanking them (a loudly shouted, gospel style: "praise the Lord" crossed my mind, but I didn't think this would have been appropriate).

The next day I continued to Nirkyv, found the waterfall (eventually) and had a quick shower. I didn't have much time to 'pédale dans la semoule' (thanks for the french lesson J-M!) because I had some actual pédaler to do. It also wasn't a very pleasant environment, with a lot of rubbish lieing around and Ukrainians on a daytrip that drive their cars until the very last meter in front of the waterfall. At night I did find a place to camp, and put up the tent for the first time. Like this it does start to feel like 'Into the wild'.


I continued my trip east and made a good 120 kilometres to the village of Nova Usycja. Here I found shelter in one of the buildings of the local hospital that is currently rented out to some young professionals. I met with Vasylenko and Yulya, working in the public prosecuter's office, Sergiu, a judge, and Tanya, his wife if I understood correctly. We had a nice meal together, where a Q6 and Q7 were added to the list. Q6 being: "how much do you earn in the Netherlands?", and Q7: "are you looking for a wife?" Actually the question about marriage comes up more and more, as I travel further east. Yesterday a woman asked me if I am married and when I stuck up my ten ringless fingers, she cried out in shock: "Ten wives?!"

(Cyclebeast meets V.I. Lenin)

In Nova Usycja Vasylenko helped me with making a phone call and when we were in the post office, a journalist of the local 'Naddnistryanska Pravda' (Truth near the river Dnister) asked me if she could do a small interview for the next edition. We agreed to do the photo shoot (try to suppress a celebrity attitude) at the prosecuter's office. There we also did the interview, which I thought was funny because Vasylenko not only served as translator, but also as spokesperson, as he had heard A1 to A5 the evening before and remembered them. When the journalist asked me why I want to make this trip, he started answering all the elements that I had told him.


About the Q's, there's actually also a Q7: "do you drink wodka?", in very much the same way as people sometimes ask you if you smoke. Drinking wodka is bonding ritual, just as smoking is for many people. It is normally drunk in three rounds, although every bottle has some consumers that want to move into a fourth, fifth, sixth, up until the 'let's-finish-the-bottle' round. The third round is dedicated to love, and at this time the men stand up. Nowadays this is not so common anymore, and when I did this yesterday after having replied 'tak' to Q7, the people at the table told me I drink like a Козаќ, or Kozak, as in an old Ukranian military man, who drinks with honour.

Yesterday I made some repairs, because the Black Diamond is starting to show the first signs of exhaustion after the many surprises of the Ukrainian roads. Took out some dents from the wheels and tried to stretch the chain, at which I failed miserably (wish I had the technical nun there with me). The next six or seven days I will try to make my way to Odessa, which will take me through more breathtaking countryside (delicious fruit straight from the tree, or ground), but where internet is sporadic. So, so long!

Next track on the OST 'Cycling east': Cycling trivialities of Joze Gonzales, great song which is not actually about cycling I think, but with such a title...:



For images of the Sarhorodian eatery that I visited yesterday: http://kafediva.com/component/option,com_datsogallery/Itemid,33/func,viewcategory/catid,2/