Friends, Americans, Countrymen:
The end of the school year has come and gone since last we met. Things are going well. It’s been hot, but the heat is a welcome change from the frigid winter. I think a friend of mine said it best when she said, and I’m paraphrasing here: “After Ukraine
As some of you may know, I’ve started training for the Kyiv Marathon which will take place on September 18th. In fact, I just finished my fifth week of training. As I’m not much of a runner, I still absolutely hate running, and probably always will, I’ve made some dietary changes to help make this transition, and training as innocuous as possible. One element of this has been the elimination of unnecessary beers, as much as that hurts to admit. My already greatly reduced consumption[1] has been further decreased in the past few weeks. Saturday night is the time now I allow myself to indulge my taste for liquid carbohydrates.
Being a sucker for tradition and various other pomps and circumstances I’ve started a new routine. I should say first, that Saturday is the long run for this marathon training program. Yesterday, for example, allowed me a nice little run of ten miles. After such an onerous task in the morning, I feel the evening owes me a good time. I’ve started haunting Café Relax at the train station in town. The café allows me an outdoor perch on their balcony where I can rehydrate, read and generally stand sentry over the train station.
Saturday night supplies
I usually roll into the café around 8:30 PM. It’s a little late, I know, but I still get an hour of good light, and then about an hour of twilight. It takes limited supplies to have an enjoyable night here. I need my glasses, my watch, a book and a couple of grizzles (as the Ukrainian unit of currency, hryvnia, is so affectionately known). For the equivalent of $1.50, I can sit with my book, and enjoy a couple of draught beers. If I want to add another $.50, I can add in a little bag of peanuts or croutons, and if I’m feeling really baller, I can get a portion of fried potatoes for $1.00.
When I’ve had enough of my book, I can sit back and watch the hustle and bustle of the train station itself. This provides enjoyable people watching, interesting bird watching, and even anonymity – a difficult thing to find in my town. The sights and sounds of these two hours vary every weekend, but they don’t stray too far from a general script. There are people hawking various foods, beverages, adult beverages and salted fishes near the arriving trains. There are usually Roma parents, looking for glass and plastic bottles while their children seek alms from philanthropic passers-through, and often to their consternation.
From my table the platforms at the train station.
If all this isn’t enough, just imagine, I get to see the militsiya in action; stopping people for documents, sending ne’er-do-wells on their way, and generally maintaining order. Among all this activity there is a near constant cry from taxi drivers offering their services to a tired traveler. This is done amid the continuous ring of announcements over the loudspeakers telling us which trains are arriving, and which are departing. Surprisingly, while the station is constantly busy while I’m holding court, I very rarely have much company on my perch.
Train platforms and kiosks and taxis in the parking lot
Watching the day reach its logical conclusion at the train station is a relaxing enterprise. I enjoy seeing people getting on and off trains. While train travel itself has lost its romance for me, I still like seeing people getting out there into the world. And, while I envy whatever adventure they just had, I’m usually glad they were able to have it. I also take a bit of pleasure watching people sprint to trains that are starting to steam, grunt and hiss. I don’t want them to miss their trains, but the endeavor is fun to watch. It is even more satisfying knowing that I have nothing to do and nowhere to be . . . which is depressing for a Saturday night in its own right.
Now, don’t get me wrong, watching sunset descend on Zhmerynka , Ukraine is in no way comparable to sitting at Castle Hill, or one of the harbor-side bars or cafes in Newport
The day comes to its logical conclusion at the train station.
Sunday morning brings a day full of promise and choices. When I wake up, I can choose whether or not I want to go back to bed, and there is usually a strong possibility that I would like to. I carve an hour out of the day for a walk. It is beneficial for my legs after the long run, and as an added bonus, I’m seeing parts of my town I had never seen before. It’s surprising how much I didn’t know about, and how many places I had never seen. The rest of Sunday can vary. A Skype conversation or phone call may be on the agenda, sometimes I’ll be lucky and the Red Sox will have a day game that I can stream online. Tonight was enjoyable; I was able to watch the USA – Jamaica
This, of course, is a special Sunday. I’d be remiss not to wish a sincere Happy Father’s Day, to all the fathers, and father-figures out there. Some of us, especially those in my extended family, have been blessed in this regard, and we certainly don’t acknowledge it enough. I can unequivocally say that I would not be where I am, both literally and figuratively, without the influence of the man lovingly referred to as Big Dave. I was lucky to be able to speak with my parents, brother and sister today. Even better than that, in just a short time I’ll be meeting my parents in the Krakow airport ready to show them my favorite non-Newport city.
But, it’s late, and that’s all I’ve got for you. So, I hope things are going well, and summer weather is making its way into your lives. Things are good here. I’d love to hear from everyone. Feel free to send me an email, or poke me on facebook, or send me letter, I’ll even get a fax machine if that would be more conducive.
Be good,
Pete
[1] Greatly reduced, but it was coming from a pretty high standard which would have been difficult to maintain.
[2] Pamplona
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