Occupy DC

Just got back from an Occupy DC march which surrounded the American Dream Summit (by and large a conservative gathering which included several (?) Republican presidential candidates) at the Convention Center... here are my observations, much of which appears to be getting misunderstood by the news already. For what it's worth, I'll clarify that I do not count myself among Occupy DC's ranks but nor do I affiliate myself with those against them. I just think both sides have fair points.

- I saw two fist fights. Both were between rival gangs from the area; did not involve protesters or anyone from the American Dream Summit.

- I can confirm one person & her dog were hit by a car which then left the scene. Protesters chased the car and surrounded it. Police did *not* let the driver go; they escorted it away from the protesters to investigate. Councilmember Wells confirms the driver was arrested. I hear (but did not witness) that two others have also been struck. This all occurred *after* I witnessed an American Dream Summit organiser asking police if he can run over protesters.

- Most protesters were friendly and let spokespeople with the American Dream Summit speak freely as well as let people pass through, though I did see several who were less ideal. In particular, the group on the west side tended to be more vocal at overwhelming the American Dream Summit's spokesperson and I also observed them blocking women with strollers and people in wheelchairs from exiting the American Dream Summit. The east side appeared more cordial, letting the spokesperson speak (who was very well-spoken, did not raise his voice, and overall a pleasant demeanor) and making way for people to pass.

- Every single police officer I saw acted responsibly and with excellent regard for their duties, laws, and with respect to both the protesters as well as attendees of the American Dream Summit.

Costs/Day

Just updated my spreadsheet to include costs/day for my trips, though I'm still missing my 2005 trek...

$175/day - Austria
$90/day - Britain
$125/day - Canada
$345/day - Denmark
$410/day - Iceland/Greenland
$140/day - Ireland
$360/day - Germany
$535/day - Liechtenstein
$275/day - New Zealand
$565/day - Norway
$225/day - Switzerland
$165/day - Russia
$265/day - Sweden
$80/day - Ukraine

Costs include transport, lodging, food, touristy stuff, and anything else that arose... such as my hospital visit in Sweden or my impromptu changes in plan so evident in my 2005 journey. Hostels & wonderful friends who let me mooch off them helped keep food/lodging costs lower in many cases. Transport was easily the single biggest item, supporting my rationale behind one really long trip instead of a several smaller trips.

This was reversed in Sweden & Denmark- where ground transport was cheap(ish), but food & lodging was downright brutal. Norway was likewise, except you need so much transport that it added up fast.

Britain is only low because I did it on a tour & mooched off family along the way.  The real winner is Ukraine- awesome country & a downright bargain. Oh, how I want to return to there...

DC - Earthquake

I was in the best seat one could have; the kind where it’s good to be when fear and chaos strike all at once.

What at first I thought was an odd rush of dizziness soon turned to thinking the crews remodeling the adjacent offices were rather loud... then I started wondering what the construction crews across the street had done... those thoughts flashed through my head in under a second.  But another second later the walls of the bathroom stall began to dance.  As the metal panels swayed back and forth it occurred to me that this was beyond the reach of anything the construction crews could’ve done.

This is DC.  With every passing electrical impulse coursing through my brain, my mind alternated between “earthquake” and “bomb”; and the screams coming from outside the bathroom were not soothing in the slightest.

So I hurried up with my dealings at that moment and emerged back into our building’s atrium to see most of the office building's tenants evacuating themselves.  (edit: that is, an exodus out of the building... a friend pointed out that "evacuating themselves" is poor phrasing considering my initial setting)

Returning back to my office, however, I found a room full of engineers, not one making even the slightest motion toward the doors.  Opting to stay in place, they instead put on hardhats.  This is why I love being an engineer.

Whoa, pretty good-sized #earthquake just hit in #Fairfaxless than a minute ago via web Favorite Retweet ReplyAndrew Bossi
thisisbossi

Beating even the fastest news outlet: Twitter was awash with activity as soon as my fingers touched the keyboard, and soon enough the suspicions were unanimous: an earthquake had struck DC.  I was glad to see countless people tweeting from downtown DC, helping to ensure it wasn’t a bomb.  However, I was amused that my brain's first concern, if it was a bomb, was hoping my computer was alright… the masses & denizens of DC were second to pop into my head.

I was surprised to see feedback from friends in New York City and Boston sharing that they’d also felt the earthquake.  Within the next minute I’d come to find that friends in Canada and Wisconsin had even felt it, but it was missed down in Georgia and by anyone who happened to be driving at the moment.  Good reason not to drive; you miss out on the fun!  In fact, people in those further reaches read about the earthquake before it even struck.  So yeah: xkcd gets it right again!

Many of us returned to working until one of our engineers – one with a stronger structural background – pointed out something that we all should’ve known.  Our offices are located above a cantilevered section of the building… that is: exactly the kind of overhanging building bit that is most likely to fall down in an earthquake.  Within five minutes I’d come to learn that we were hit by a 5.9 earthquake with an epicenter just to the southwest & only within the top kilometer from the surface, and already aftershocks were giving that dizzying sensation that I’d felt in that first split-second.

(edit: USGS later revised back down to a 5.8, depth about 6 km)

Much of our staff had already departed by the time I wrapped up what I was doing, only ten minutes or so later.  To my amusement the guy sitting next to me was on a conference call with staff in our Baltimore office… an office who’d likewise felt the earthquake seemingly just as much as us.  Clearly those guys are quite dedicated.

The walk to the Metro station proceeded normally, albeit passing by evacuees from our office building as well as the apartments next door.  I looked over at the construction site and was glad to see it seemed OK – including the delicate 3 stories of timbers and massive 10 story-ish free-standing concrete elevator shaft.  I’d have been quite curious to have been watching that job site when the earthquake struck.

I arrived at the Metro station already armed with the knowledge that trains were running at 15 MPH.  I became aware that there wasn’t a single train headed back into the city on the boards… so I certainly had a decent wait ahead of me.  Entering the Dunn Loring / Merrifield Metro Station, passing through the pedestrian bridge over I-66, I passed by some fallen ceiling tiles that the station manager had already coned off.  The rest of the station appeared intact.

So the wait began.  And it continued.  It went on for 30 minutes, which on a weekend wouldn’t seem too out-of-place; but 3pm was the earliest stretches of the evening peak period… normally I’d wait 1-2 minutes; perhaps 5 minutes max.  Good thing it was a delightful day for a disaster, with the weather beautifully sunny and just a touch on the warmish side.  I-66, the interstate running along both sides of the station’s platforms, was rolling quite smoothly by this point; but it’d start to congest by the time my train crawled by East Falls Church.

Considering it was still pretty early, I was far out on the system, and headed in on a reverse commute – the platforms and train were certainly busier than they would normally be... but not jam-packed.  It was only at Foggy Bottom and Farragut West where my train car turned into a cattlecar.  It was really a rather pleasant ride, though the train car was a touch on the warm side… it made me all the more glad that the temperatures weren’t what they were like over the past several weeks.

At some point we'd picked up a police officer who passed through our car, walking between the cars while we were crawling along… I’m unsure of his precise role, other than perhaps to make sure people weren’t freaking out.  They weren’t.  While two cute Russian girls behind me – who’d boarded at Vienna – were clearly exasperated from the length of their trip; by and large most people were in normal or good spirits.

Many people read books and fiddled with their phones (as usual), though some were also exchanging stories & remaining cheerful through the whole ordeal.  Not one person ever derided the transit service: everyone was well aware that these were rather unique circumstances; I think we were all really just glad to have a way home at all – regardless of how slow it might be.  The train ride took a total 65 minutes, compared to the usual 20 on any other day.

Reading Twitter as the ride carried on was entertaining… most were light-hearted about the whole ordeal, but a few were still panicked and terrified.  Count me among the former, though some childhood memories came flooding back as soon as the train entered the subway tunnels – immediately reminding me of the Earthquake ride at Universal Studios that I’d both feared and loved as a kid.  Rumors were aflutter, with someone starting that the Washington Monument was leaning (it wasn’t) or that there was some significant damage to the spires at the National Cathedral (true).  I opted to send out a horrible tweet:

Lincoln Memorial is leaning ... leaning back in his comfy chair! HA ha ha ha!  ...sorry.  #earthquake #dcquakeless than a minute ago via Twitter for Android Favorite Retweet ReplyAndrew Bossi
thisisbossi

The only stations that were jam-packed were downtown, with the newcomers at Foggy Bottom & Farragut West immediately engaging others in conversation... and I managed to pretty easily slip through the door crowds when it soon came time for me to disembark at McPherson.  I chatted with the McPherson station manager briefly – she also seemed rather excited by the events' break in the daily monotony: she appeared to be doing patrols between the station manager's hut & the railing overlooking the platform, I assume partly to ensure that everything was still orderly down there (it was).  To think that only three hours prior I'd been in a course on pedestrian crowding, replete with multiple examples of disaster congestion.  It seemed fitting.

So began my usual walk back to Logan Circle, routing myself along K Street to witness the traffic chaos.  The streets were alive with the sound of sirens... and some horns for good measure.  Pretty much every road was backed up in all directions, largely with folk heading home early but also not helped in the slightest by numerous signals being out.  It was a good time to be a pedestrian.

Passing by some apartments at the corner of 10^th and N Street NW I came upon a police unit in the process of taping off an alleyway… I soon spotted the load of debris scattered about, freshly fallen from the highest heights of the apartment’s structure.  This building is home to a number of low-income families -- I immediately shared news with my councilmember to make him aware, as these families face a very real possibility that they may not be allowed to return tonight.  It helped put into perspective that the “fun” of the day is only that way for those who don’t lose anything… but there are certainly some who may face some difficulties as the evening nears.  It also made me glad not to be a parent who had to worry about where my kids are and how they’re doing!

I returned to find that nothing had budged in my apartment.  Nothing; even the slightest bit.  I have some items sitting on slippy surfaces which were encircled by the dust as when I left, and the objects precariously hanging upon the walls -- which fall often enough even when the ground is stationary -- were still comfortably in place.  It was a nice contrast to the apartment building at 10th and N St or to my other friends whose breakable & expensive objects did not fare as kindly.

Sure, this pales in comparison to what California faces pretty much every day... and while eyeing up the fallen ceiling tiles at Dunn Loring / Merrifield I was chatting with a Japanese woman who was also no stranger to earthquakes.  But keep in mind: it's not just that the East Coast is full of softened hipsters (the West Coast has those, too); our buildings and infrastructure simply are not designed for earthquakes of this magnitude.  So what would be a ho-hum day along the San Andreas turns out to be a pretty big thing for folk in DC.

SlutWalk DC 2011

The journey to the event began well before the march took its first step.  I had a maddening effort that morning at getting my cameras back.  The cameras had been in for repair, which particularly bothered me in that one of those cameras was only 2 months old & was already damaged; and even then: Canon wouldn't honor their warranty.

And also: for several days I'd been trying to work with FedEx to receive the cameras back... and to put a long story short: they'd been behaving very much like UPS usually does.  It was a pain trying to either get the packages delivered while I was home or to get them delivered to the local FedEx branch.  I ended up physically chasing down their delivery truck -- on the phone with the driver -- as it made its runs along Mass Ave.

To think that only a month ago I'd had such a high opinion of both Canon and FedEx.

I arrived out of breath after chasing down the FedEx truck and then dashing almost nonstop to Lafayette Square.  Finding the group had already moved on, I began a jog south across the Mall -- losing a couple pounds of sweat in the process.  The day was comparatively cool, but the humidity was of no assistance.  Intermittent rain did help, but drenched some wonderful signs, makeup, and only made it feel a bit more brutal when the atmospheric spigot turned off again.

This was a bit of a tricky event to photograph, as having grown up among the rather puritanical Amish of Pennsylvania: my mind was jousting with itself between the thoughts of "I shouldn't hesitate to photograph these ladies because they're here to show their pride & I can help to showcase it" versus "I should not photograph these ladies especially at an event like this; I don't want to look like a creeper and I don't want my photos to end up being salivating fodder for every horny man on the internet".

This subsequently resulted in me being rather timid the whole time... particularly in that I actually asked many of the women for permission.  Usually I prefer more candid shots as it gives a more authentic look, but I felt a bit too off-kilter to do as much of that this time around; hence the asking for permission.

I also only took a few photos of those wearing the least, as I just felt too uncomfortable standing there with a camera focused on their body when I'm at an event all about deobjectifying the female form.  Though at one point I did laugh with a participant when I asked if I could take a photo of her chest... one of the few times I could do that without getting slapped.

(to be fair: there were also plenty of men in attendance & participating; but I didn't feel nearly as reserved photographing them... in general, men simply don't carry as many sexual connotations)

There were some powerful stories shared on the stage spanning quite the gambit of scenarios.  While I didn't agree 100% with everything (then again: I *never* agree 100% with *anything*), it was nonetheless a great event and it was nice to see the comradery between stage & audience.  The early rain may have drenched makeup and soaked the ink on signs, but it certainly didn't dampen their spirit.

NO - Bergen

July 2                     Sunday                                 Norway                                Bergen                 

The sun is up!  A great day for glaciers and fjords!

I picked up a glacier tour at the museum, standing on the rooftop and using my camera to spy on it as it sat at the docks in town before driving over to the museum.  While the six other people in the group wandered about the museum, I returned to its café to get me some breakfast… except the same fare was on offer.  So since I’d asked the server yesterday whether I should do a hamburger or hotdog, I figured this time around I’d go for the option not yet chosen: hotdog.

From the get-go I could tell it was not this girl’s morning.  It was a different girl than yesterday evening, though that girl was also there working the entry’s desk instead of the café.  But with the café girl this time around: first she set her coffee in front of the cash register.  So when the till snapped open: over went the coffee.  Then she gave me the hotdog and I immediately realized it was ice cold… she forgot to flip on the water heater when she arrived.  About 10 minutes later I received a freshly brewed hot dog … still cold.  Oh well.  Ketchup & mustard cover that up nicely.

The white pants girl from the previous evening inquired which I liked better: her burger or her coworker’s hot dog.  Here was a moment I could’ve been suave and offered a classy answer that clearly praised her cheeseburger in some manner, but at this time of morning I do not have such capabilities (nor do I often have them even at the best of times).  I just answered her burger & said the hotdog was cold in the too matter-of-factly engineering manner so stereotypical of my profession.  Doh.  I did get to thinking, though… she really  reminded me of someone; I just couldn’t think of who.  Something about her face & personality seemed so incredibly familiar.

The six people in my glacier tour included an older American couple from Staten Island, a 30-something couple from Mumbai, a 30-something Asian woman from Australia, and one other older dude I didn’t get a chance to talk to.  Oh: the dude from Staten Island totally had a handlebar mustache.

We visited two glaciers: Supphellebreen then Bøyabreen.  In the history of what I’ve seen in the Alps, Iceland, or Greenland: these were downers.  Neither was too endearing… I mean, I love glaciers & these were nice, but the glacier itself was high up and didn’t show much to the layperson at ground level.  As the glaciers advanced, gravity caused them to tumble down the cliffs into a large pile at the bottom… not really a glacier in the same sense, anymore, and not quite the impact I get from visiting glaciers more befitting the stereotypical look.

I returned and made my way to the bus stop on the other side of the museum, making myself comfy and soaking up some rays as I waited for my bus south toward Begen.  I got to thinking… transportation in Scandinavia has really not been to European standards: it’s inefficient, slow, expensive, and serves only limited destinations.  Norway, in particular, really hits those marks.  Passenger rail is only marginally better than the USA.  While the bus system is better than the USA, it’s still missing some pretty major direct connections… but on the plus side: they do a stellar job at coordinating bus transfers.  I’ve rarely had to wait more than 10 minutes.  But through it all: it got me to wondering if Fjærland’s apparent lack of business wasn’t in some part to its lack of a rail connection… buses and ferries just tend to be a bit more hidden and confusing to the casual tourist not affiliated with a tour group.

The bus dropped me off in Habakken (which sounds a lot like, and may be etymologically related to, Hoboken in New Jersey).  My next bus took me directly to Bergen, immediately entering into the world’s longest road tunnel after departing Habakken.  Now the problem with riding through tunnels breaking the distance record is that the kitsch is fun for the first 30 seconds, but then you have many minutes of boredom.  With each subsequent tunnel: the clouds grew and grew, also sinking lower and lower… soon enough we had arrived in Bergen to a rather dreary day.  But on its suburban outskirts we did pass by one highlight: a construction site… not just any construction site; I was witness to a baby Ikea being born.  It was beautiful; the miracle of furniture.

Sick of eating burgers, hotdogs, and takeaway pizzas: I yearned for something different & something with flavor.  Indian to the rescue!  The samosas were quite tasty, the lassi OK, and the main course good… but I probably shouldn’t have ordered it hot.  While it was still plenty edible, it was at the point where the temperature of the spice detracted from its overall flavor & appreciation.

My hostel was a pretty large dormitory, but I ended up getting some great uninterrupted sleep despite the crowd.  Of 16 beds: two stayed empty, a 30-something Italian couple occupied another bunk pair, two English guys in another bunk (one of which was originally from Indiana but moved at a young age; both from Birmingham but without as bad an accent as Ozzy Osborne!), a 20-something American girl (I think the first American of my trip?), a 20-something Japanese guy (from Tokyo; in the bunk above me), a 30-something woman I didn’t get a chance to chat with, and some other folk I also missed.

NO - Fjærland

July 1                     Sunday                                 Norway                                Fjærland             

It was drizzling when I awoke, which was moments before my alarm… I’m never sure whether I should be relieved to dodge that hateful noise or annoyed that I missed out on precious minutes of sleep.  Sure, a couple more minutes probably wouldn’t have made any real difference; but it’s how it feels when you feel like you’ve been robbed of sleep time.

I tossed together an open-faced sandwich of veggies & cold cuts for breakfast, briefly attempting a bowl of muesli with milk that smelled fine but poured like yogurt.  WHY, SCANDINAVIA, WHY??

The Chinese were first to depart, filling a bus and suddenly leaving the hostel quite blissfully calm.  I boarded the second bus with the Ukrainians & Dominique for the ride south to Geiranger.  We stopped in town to pickup a couple folk from the train station, one of which was an older woman – but I say “older” lightly – who sat in the other front-row seat across from me.  From the wrinkles in her face I’d hazard a guess that she was in her late-30’s or perhaps early-40’s, but holy cow had she aged well… perfectly fit and looking like a slightly older Kristin Kreuk (a longtime celebrity crush of mine ever since the first season of Smallville).  Named Linda, she’s an Australian (from Brisbane, if I recall) who works with weddings on cruise ships & had just finished a job in Italy when she came to Norway for vacation.  I was quite bummed when we she alighted in a town just before we ferried across one of the fjords.

The bus ride took us through Trollstigen, which includes some sheer towering cliffs above the road & also a very dramatic series of switchbacks as the road climbs one of the slopes.  Once again: one of those things I’d love to see in clear weather, but I made the best of the gloom as I could.

Our arrival into Geiranger was quite dramatic, with stellar fjord views along the whole descent into town.  From there we all switched to a ferry to Hellesylt – often credited as among the best ferry trips in all of Norway.  It was certainly with its charm, but again: the low-hanging clouds surely limited the views of the mountainsides.  It did kind of feel like I was entering Jurassic Park, though… a recurring issue with a couple more fjord cruises being that the Jurassic Park theme song gets stuck in my head.  But I love that piece; so it’s OK.

As our ferry passed by the Hurtigruten ferry: ours took the lead in a brief foghorn duel, causing everyone on the top deck to leap with surprise at the first sound.

Once in Hellesylt we all switched back to a bus, where we’d soon be parting ways.  While waiting, however, I finally struck up conversation with the Ukrainians.  There was one woman clearly enthused to have the opportunity to practice her English, though her English was only marginally better than my Russian… and I was equally excited to throw out a couple Russian phrases.   The two young girls with the group (I’m guessing the woman I was talking to was their mother?) were especially excited, and clearly they’d had some English courses in school.

The youngest was likely in elementary or possibly middle school… definitely around the 10-12 mark.  The sister (or I assume sister) looked to be about 17-18 and downright cute.  It may have been lost in translation, but I think she is either entering into her final year of high school or just graduated.  She seemed shy at first, but once she got to talking she became downright garrulous.  Even then, however, it was clear that English wasn’t her strongest point… but she was certainly the best English speaker of the group & quickly became my translator.

I posed for a photo with the smallest one as we each read our Norwegian guidebooks – one in Russian; the other in English – and I gave my card to the woman and asked if I could get a copy of the photo, but I feared the request was lost in translation.  Hopefully she’d just give my card to the older girl, who’d well enough know to send an email & I could follow up from there.

The Ukrainians disembarked in Olden and I ultimately left Dominique in Skei.  While I gave due farewells to the Ukrainians, I felt like I hadn’t properly thanked the tour guide for his help; and even in Skei I had totally forgotten to say anything to Dominique as I’d been fixated on trying to figure out my next transfer.  I felt kind of bad about that…

My final destination was only about 30 minutes past Skei: a tiny town called Fjærland.  Well I wasn’t even in the town… that was still about 3 kilometers from the bus stop, but fortunately my campsite was right at the bus stop.  The two teenaged girls at reception were exceptionally helpful at helping me plan out the next day, providing me with bus schedules and ferry scheduled for whichever mode I should choose.

Dinner was at the Glacier Museum immediately next door.  It was the only option… open for another hour; whereas everything in the slightly-distant town had just closed.  The café certainly didn’t serve world-class fare, but in my famished state: the cheeseburger served well enough.   I took heed of the server’s white pants… not specifically out of ogling her or anything; but just that a lot of Scandinavian women wear white pants; and what more: they wear it well.  White pants are hard for a lot of women to pull off.

I settled in for the evening in the attic dormitory, ultimately having the entire room all to myself… turns out tiny Fjærland wasn’t quite the tourist haven at this point.  At about 11pm I took heed that the skylight was sunny… the sun!  Sunset!  Yay!  It was a very pretty sunset, and with a 24/7 rooftop plaza on the museum next door: I had a great vantage point to capture the surrounding landscape of the tip of the fjord.

NO - Åndalsnes

June 30                 Thursday                             Norway                                Åndalsnes          

I woke up with the Donkey Kong Country song stuck in my head.  It’s the song that kind of sounds almost like a musical box at first, with the jungle drums kicking in a few measures later.  I don’t know why it was in my head, but I was singing it as I woke up.

It was a dreary day & at long last it stuck, with the cycling weather pattern I’d noted yesterday now transforming into a consistently gray day.  Of all days, it was when I supposed to take a spectacularly scenic journey… bah.  But as I’d noted before: it’s best to try and reframe such weather as just another photographic tool.  The clouds are a diffuser; and their low altitude would help to frame things into a gloomy state… and considering the troll theme of much of the geology I’d pass through: perhaps this would even be appropriate.

I left my baggage at the desk to explore the town a bit before catching my train that afternoon.  I just revisited many of the same sites I’d already taken, but tried to vary my route a bit to take in different streets.  By the time I caught my train I felt that I’d taken pretty much every single street in the entire city center, including along both sides of the bryggen.

My train took me first to Dombås before changing into the Rauma Railway (Raumabanen) as it travels to Åndalsnes.  The first leg of the train ride was rather uneventful, with the highlight being my eating of breakfast.  The panini (if that’s what they want to call it) was quite lacking, though the cookie was tasty.  Amusing part was that the train’s café was actually rather reasonably priced… at the least on-par with any stationary convenience mart.

The Rauma Railway was definitely a delight, but again I’d love to see it in better weather… but I tried my best to use the gloom to my advantage.  The railway is famous for its civil engineering marvels as it tackles some pretty major grades, at one point bridging back and forth over streams to try and make the grade before eventually going into a tunnel that spirals & double-backs over itself – opening directly onto a pretty phenomenal bridge.  It was definitely worth the trip.

Upon arrival in Åndalsnes I decided to give myself a quick tour of the town.  Despite the backpacks & knowledge that I had a decent walk to my hostel, I also knew that this was my only chance to really see the town; and I knew it’d be a small enough town that it would only take a couple minutes.  And sure enough: I was soon on my journey out to the hostel.  I’d checked out the town on Google Maps the night before, which was all it took for me to get to my hostel flawlessly.  Thank you, Lonely Planet, for not giving me a map… no map is better than a bad map; it forces me to pay more attention & learn the layout of towns rather than think I can use the map as a crutch.

Along the way I’d kept pace with a guy who was clearly having some trouble with his rolling suitcase, but he kept up his speed just enough – and I’d slowed just enough with my frequent photos – that I’d never caught up with him.  At the hostel, however, while chatting with my new roommates he came in several minutes later and immediately recognized me as the guy who had been behind him.  His name was Dominique, hailing from the south of France, & he’d come to be a recurring presence in my trip.

Similarly, another recurring presence would be a tour group whose guide I got to chatting with – an older English guy who’d been living in Norway for years & ran tours catering to Ukrainians.  So sure enough: the tour group was formed of Russian-speaking Ukrainians from a town between Kyiv and Bila Tserkva… there’s a good chance I’d gone right by their hometown during my trip in 2008.  I came to love the Russian language during that trip & really like the Ukrainian people, so I was excited to have such a group around.  But even better: the tour guide helped me plan my route to Bergen… he had time tables of buses & knew their routes, which was fortunate considering that my initial plan followed paths which didn’t have any bus routes.  Surprising considering how direct they seemed & how large the towns were… who’d have thought Lom would be so underserved by buses?  His group was headed in much the same direction as me, so we’d be tagging along together the next day.

I’d arrived into the hostel just seconds before two full tour buses pulled in, turning the quiet farmstead into a wildhouse of folk… one bus contained the Ukrainians & the other bus had a Chinese tour group.  I was quite relieved to have arrived just in time to check-in before that cacophony struck the reception desk.

In addition to Dominique, my roommates consisted of two German guys – one about my age (bunked below me) and another seeming in his late-30’s or early-40’s; I couldn’t tell if he was a friend, coworker, or even father to the guy my age.  There were two other French guys who I chatted with briefly & I’m drawing a blank on who occupied the other bed; I don’t think I got to talking with him at all.