Things Go Down Hill - Fast
Thursday, June 8 – Even Later
We were supposed to be met by a minivan that could accommodate our luggage (Vasylyna at the International Renaissance foundation, the OSJI partner in Kyiv, had been warned in advance) , but we still had to get from the luggage carousel to the street with all our bags and Belle. Thank God, there were carts at the luggage carousel (we needed 5 of them), and I waited with Belle by the retrieved bags as Ed went and got each, one by one. Then we had the logistical problem of getting all the carts through customs (passport control had not been a problem – “os mi passport” I said confidently, and no one asked any questions about Belle). Ed wheeled each cart up to the “nothing to declare section” (we knew that's what it was because it was green and the other lane was red - at least some things are universal), and left them there as I waited with all the other carts until finally we started wheeling and dragging them out the doors to the waiting throngs. I found our minivan driver with a sign with our names (but not before another taxi driver had found me and grabbed my cart to put me in his taxi). Well, of course, the van was way too small – and the driver hadn’t removed any of the seats, so it was REALLY way too small. We waited as it started to drizzle and he moved the seats out and put in as much as he could (four suitcases short), and then he got another minivan driver to take me and the rest of the bags. It was really hot and humid and we were all dripping by the time this was accomplished. The arrangement was supposed to be that the driver would take us by the International Renaissance Foundation office, where we would drop the four cartons that we were going to keep in Kyiv until we relocate there in September(winter clothes, and supplies for the second three months), and then take us to the Kreshchatek Hotel (where Vasylyna had made a reservation for us, after asking me to cancel the reservations I had made at the Hotel Rus, which I had been told was a reasonable and reasonably nice business hotel). Somehow it escaped her attention that we were arriving on Sunday, and the office, of course, was closed. So we instead just took everything to the hotel. What we had been told would probably cost about $40 (including the drop-off at the offices), ended up costing $70 with no drop-off.
The hotel --- how can I describe it? I can’t really – a massive Stalinist structure built in the ‘50’s probably, and not touched in any way since then. Fortunately I was so exhausted I didn’t care. I will say this – for a real shit hole (and that is really the only way to put it), this place had pretty decent sheets (I of course brought my own pillow and pillowcase, thank God), hot water and great water pressure. Culture shock was really starting to hit! And I was especially upset because we could have stayed at a decent hotel, the Hotel Rus, for about $15 more a night – it’s not as if I had made reservations at the Premier Palace, where the cheapest room is $450!!!
We dumped all our stuff in the hotel baggage storage except for one small carry-on bag with our toiletries, the jewelry I had brought with me, a small supply of food for Belle, and my pillow and pillowcase from home (of course!). We wanted (actually, desperately needed) to have our clothes laundered (by this time they were soaking wet anyway!) and to throw Belle’s case in the washing machine. The laundress (who didn’t understand our feeble attempts at Ukrainian – she spoke only Russian anyway - and who looked just like what you would imagine a Soviet prison guard would look like), wouldn’t take Belle’s case, so Ed again stepped up to the plate and washed the entire thing in the bath tub. He did a great job too – it and he emerged completely clean and smell free. By this time it was going on 7:30 p.m., but neither of us was hungry. Ed took Belle for a little walk while I lay on the bed wondering if this was the biggest mistake I had ever made in my life (and I’ve made some doozies). When Ed came back a few minutes later (Belle of course performed perfectly – she seemed to be the only one of the three of us that was able to adjust at all – but she too wasn’t eating yet), we just took drugs and crashed. Ed asked me if this was the worst I had ever felt since I had gone through chemo. I told him that compared to this chemo was great! But I also told him that it wasn’t as bad as when I had broken my back in Africa, or when we had briefly split up in 1991. Those were very dark days for me – much worse that this.
It’s hard to describe how and why I was so depressed. The hotel room didn’t help at all, but in a way I really didn’t care about that. It was just one more thing to endure – I just wanted the time to pass as quickly as possible until I could get out of there. I didn’t want to unpack anything, not even my toiletries, I didn’t want to do anything, see anything, walk anywhere, eat anything (now that must be a first) – we’re talking serious depression here. For the first time in my life I understood how Ed could go to a hotel room and not want to unpack immediately and make it his “own” somehow. The last thing on earth I wanted to do was create any kind of “nest” in this place. And I guess that’s why I was so depressed. I began to realize how important my sense of “home” is to me – whether it’s a hotel room, a temporary apartment or my own house. I’ve always spent the first hour or so of any trip unpacking, organizing and making the room “my place.” Not this time.
We were supposed to be met by a minivan that could accommodate our luggage (Vasylyna at the International Renaissance foundation, the OSJI partner in Kyiv, had been warned in advance) , but we still had to get from the luggage carousel to the street with all our bags and Belle. Thank God, there were carts at the luggage carousel (we needed 5 of them), and I waited with Belle by the retrieved bags as Ed went and got each, one by one. Then we had the logistical problem of getting all the carts through customs (passport control had not been a problem – “os mi passport” I said confidently, and no one asked any questions about Belle). Ed wheeled each cart up to the “nothing to declare section” (we knew that's what it was because it was green and the other lane was red - at least some things are universal), and left them there as I waited with all the other carts until finally we started wheeling and dragging them out the doors to the waiting throngs. I found our minivan driver with a sign with our names (but not before another taxi driver had found me and grabbed my cart to put me in his taxi). Well, of course, the van was way too small – and the driver hadn’t removed any of the seats, so it was REALLY way too small. We waited as it started to drizzle and he moved the seats out and put in as much as he could (four suitcases short), and then he got another minivan driver to take me and the rest of the bags. It was really hot and humid and we were all dripping by the time this was accomplished. The arrangement was supposed to be that the driver would take us by the International Renaissance Foundation office, where we would drop the four cartons that we were going to keep in Kyiv until we relocate there in September(winter clothes, and supplies for the second three months), and then take us to the Kreshchatek Hotel (where Vasylyna had made a reservation for us, after asking me to cancel the reservations I had made at the Hotel Rus, which I had been told was a reasonable and reasonably nice business hotel). Somehow it escaped her attention that we were arriving on Sunday, and the office, of course, was closed. So we instead just took everything to the hotel. What we had been told would probably cost about $40 (including the drop-off at the offices), ended up costing $70 with no drop-off.
The hotel --- how can I describe it? I can’t really – a massive Stalinist structure built in the ‘50’s probably, and not touched in any way since then. Fortunately I was so exhausted I didn’t care. I will say this – for a real shit hole (and that is really the only way to put it), this place had pretty decent sheets (I of course brought my own pillow and pillowcase, thank God), hot water and great water pressure. Culture shock was really starting to hit! And I was especially upset because we could have stayed at a decent hotel, the Hotel Rus, for about $15 more a night – it’s not as if I had made reservations at the Premier Palace, where the cheapest room is $450!!!
We dumped all our stuff in the hotel baggage storage except for one small carry-on bag with our toiletries, the jewelry I had brought with me, a small supply of food for Belle, and my pillow and pillowcase from home (of course!). We wanted (actually, desperately needed) to have our clothes laundered (by this time they were soaking wet anyway!) and to throw Belle’s case in the washing machine. The laundress (who didn’t understand our feeble attempts at Ukrainian – she spoke only Russian anyway - and who looked just like what you would imagine a Soviet prison guard would look like), wouldn’t take Belle’s case, so Ed again stepped up to the plate and washed the entire thing in the bath tub. He did a great job too – it and he emerged completely clean and smell free. By this time it was going on 7:30 p.m., but neither of us was hungry. Ed took Belle for a little walk while I lay on the bed wondering if this was the biggest mistake I had ever made in my life (and I’ve made some doozies). When Ed came back a few minutes later (Belle of course performed perfectly – she seemed to be the only one of the three of us that was able to adjust at all – but she too wasn’t eating yet), we just took drugs and crashed. Ed asked me if this was the worst I had ever felt since I had gone through chemo. I told him that compared to this chemo was great! But I also told him that it wasn’t as bad as when I had broken my back in Africa, or when we had briefly split up in 1991. Those were very dark days for me – much worse that this.
It’s hard to describe how and why I was so depressed. The hotel room didn’t help at all, but in a way I really didn’t care about that. It was just one more thing to endure – I just wanted the time to pass as quickly as possible until I could get out of there. I didn’t want to unpack anything, not even my toiletries, I didn’t want to do anything, see anything, walk anywhere, eat anything (now that must be a first) – we’re talking serious depression here. For the first time in my life I understood how Ed could go to a hotel room and not want to unpack immediately and make it his “own” somehow. The last thing on earth I wanted to do was create any kind of “nest” in this place. And I guess that’s why I was so depressed. I began to realize how important my sense of “home” is to me – whether it’s a hotel room, a temporary apartment or my own house. I’ve always spent the first hour or so of any trip unpacking, organizing and making the room “my place.” Not this time.
posted by Susan Spivak at 12:28 PM
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