Call Me On Your Way Back Home

Dear Friends, Family, Anonymous Readers:

After three weeks on the road I returned home on Saturday.  This is quite a significant statement.  I think this is the first time in the twenty-some months I’ve lived in Ukraine that I considered Zhmerynka home.  Furthermore, I, personally, am shocked that this place that drives me CRAZY, and steals my heart as soon as I’ve had absolutely enough, has come to feel like home.  Vacation is a hell of a thing, and I love to consider myself a rambling man; but, there is nothing like being on the road to remind me how much I enjoy the familiar, the routine.

            I can unequivocally say that this trip was one of the best.  I’ll give details about the places later.  I started in Kyiv.  I met a friend, and we travelled together to Krakow.  The next day I picked my parents up from the airport.  From Krakow we made our way to Warsaw for a night, and on to Barcelona.  Barcelona was terrific.  I said goodbye to my parents there, and made my way to Pamplona.  After a few sleepless nights, and bus station naps I made my way back to Barcelona.  Flying into Katowice, Poland, I got a bus to Krakow.  My train back to Ukraine was cancelled.  I took another bus into Lviv.  The bus to Lviv brought me to another bus to Lutsk, a city in northwestern Ukraine.  Another transfer brought me to a sanitarium called Prolisok, where I spent four days studying Ukrainian.

            Finally, after the language refresher I got back to Zhmerynka.  I arrived about 5:15 AM.  The best part of my arrival was learning that over the course of the previous three weeks I had left my key somewhere.  Ever the courteous tenant, I slept for a couple hours on my bags, waiting until 8:30 to call my landlord.  Another half hour later, key in hand, I opened the door and collapsed into my practiced home life.  Exhausted and contented I slept the entirety of the day away, at least (don’t tell my dad) until 3:00 PM.

            After waking up, I realized it wasn’t just a familiar bed, and a high pressure shower I was missing.  I missed the tree I sit and read under.  I missed my train station café.  I missed the taste of stale, flat and/or warm beer.  I missed my ChelentanoI missed the town I live in.  I missed my friends here.  Hell, I even missed the marshrutka ride to Vinnytsia (even if the price has gone up 1 hryvnia each way).  Maybe it was just my vanity.  It’s very possible I missed people whispering and children shouting “khello!” whenever I walk by.  Who knows?  All I can say is that I am back home, and I’m not misspeaking/mistyping by stating that.

That's all I've got for you.

Be good,

Pete