Ukraine, in His Labyrinth
The Orange Revolution has died before birth between huevazos and slaps. In Parliament have been bundled with slaps and commentators are surprised. Ukraine is turning its back on Europe, say dismayed. I am sad that the beautiful Timoshenko, Europeanist blonde combing with a head ensaimada, has been left with a span of nostrils, and the Russian fleet in Crimea. Outside of these cliches, nobody goes there in the picture. I have the impression that many of these columns are written by people who have never set foot in Ukraine.
Poland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia is Europe itself. Invaded Europe, dominated and humiliated by the Soviet Union. In these countries have sent to the dump all the rebar communist. They are in a sincere effort to regain his being: and modern Western nations that were once essential part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Ukraine is another thing. It's something that feels just across the border, something the pundits should do. Not that we give back, is that it never intended to shake hands. Addition, Why should I? In case of conflict with Russia, they know we would leave them in the lurch like we have done with Georgia.
Coming from Hungary, the country is forested and montuno shows. The fields exhibit many colors: Green, yellow, red, violet. The whole road is dotted with red stars, monuments to victory against the Germans, sculptures dedicated to the farmer, the soldier, the artisan, the worker. Follow up all that old muscular epic heroes of the people of grids. The funny thing is that the Soviet imagery coexists with a strong religious revival. Lenin and Christ live face to face as residents show a hostile and unfriendly face. No one smiles in Ukraine.
If one tries to live an adventure bike should, before buying a single map, find out what languages they speak out there and learn at least a few words
No one but the traffic police. But his smile is a hyena. Insatiable predators to collect bribes. His brazenness shows a corruption condoned by the authorities. It would be an effective way to get the public service pay while paying poverty wages to staff. You are responsible to apply them to work to complete the low paid directly charging users. Make the first hundred miles cost me a princely sum. I paid the hazing. Soon learn that even for fixed rates is acceptable extortion.
If one tries to live an adventure bike should, before buying a single map, learn that spoken languages out there and learn at least a few words explaining the basics: food, drink, refueling and overnight. Is it not enough perhaps to English and French? Apart from the big hotels in big city, most people will interact with you outside of Western Europe know less English than Alfredo Landa.
In the former Soviet Union can fall in utter isolation. They only speak Russian. The adventurous beginner may rely on mimicry to be understood. But surprises can be, embarrassment, if not a good scare. Mime is, like all languages, a cultural creation and a social convention. Different cultures and societies, different gestures. When I walked in Ukraine, both traffic signals such as vocals were incomprehensible to me. It was like being in a maze. There is no armed men in service stations. How do you understand that you want to fill the tank?
I was approached by a guy with hose in hand and looking into my eyes slid his finger down his neck as he threatens to cut your own. I was shocked. I slipped a lot of tickets in the box, filled the tank, returned the change, and still shaking I took off in the shins. Three hundred miles later, at the next station, The operator repeated as menacing gesture. This time, to scare away, I agreed. He filled the tank and I paid the exact amount. That's how I learned that the Soviet way of indicating that you fill the tank "at the top" is to slide your finger across the neck from one extreme to another. And the gestures do not always mean what they seem. So be careful out there with what we do with your hands.
The waitress did not understand a word of English but is very nice. It's called Iluana. He gives me the first genuine smile
Kirovgrado is a city in central China. The hotel is a mausoleum gray Interturist over ten stories. All lights are off. No guests. The room has all the amenities you need Brezhnev: bakelite telephone and pallet feet wide. I try to eat but can not find anything edible but a kiosk with a terrace where they serve beer and peanuts. Men seem to serial murderers; Ukrainian women are great guy. It is seen that eat little. They are very beautiful to the 25, from there the ugly gold teeth and too much vodka home. The waitress did not understand a word of English but is very nice. It's called Iluana. He gives me the first genuine smile.
I wake up at five. Light comes pouring. No curtains, decadent and bourgeois luxury that only the lazy and the enemies of the people appreciate. In the dining room sounds of disco music. Comes to meet me a grumpy employee. He hates me and neither know why. I give my ticket to get breakfast and be rewarded with a dish of river fish and white rice cooked with pickles. Now I understand so much hostility, these people do not eat vegetable fiber.
I go to the latter, toward the Russian. It is even worse. It is amazing so much poverty. I saw a guy plowing his field. It would be normal if he used his wife as a draft animal. Each city or town is jam Ladas, Trabants and Dacias. The trucks throw more smoke than Santiago Carrillo in a Central Committee meeting.
Me a Mariupol dirijo, resort town on the shores of the Sea of Azov. When I get where he is supposed to be the beach, only find a horizon of smoking chimneys and harbor cranes. For the Ukrainians do not seem to mind. They lie happily in a coarse sand mixed with ashes. Vacationers are bathed in these waters while his pale skin oil gets huge melanomas. I sit on a terrace for a beer tasting crumbly. A gang of skinheads criminals about to examine the bike. "¿Amerikanski?"Excited wonder. “No”, context, “Español”. In its visible face of disappointment you can read the deep affection for Europe.
Comments (1)
Pablo Huertas
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I like leo viajes.Le also explains in The Country
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