Our year in a few pictures - 2015


Our front garden. Picture by Fumie Suzuki.

The balcony + Bob and my mother in law. Picture by Fumie Suzuki.

Some of the many flowers we have. Picture by Fumie Suzuki.

A detail of the hall. Picture by Fumie Suzuki.

Another detail of the hall. Picture by Fumie Suzuki.

My desk and our ancient tv set.
We don't really watch it.

Our living room. Picture by Fumie Suzuki.

Wood pasture around our cottage in the countryside.
Such pastures are unique in Europe and have a great ecological value.

 On the road to Kide

Upward with the bike, in the Eastern Carpathians.

Climbing the Ineu.

Blooming rhododendrons in the Rodnei mountains 
and nobody else around.

Copenhagen, Denmark. One of the few colourful streets in town.


Kosice, Slovakia

Bardujevo is one of the most beautiful small towns in Slovakia.



Krakow, Poland

The royal castle in Krakow, Poland is a wonderful 
renaissance building with lots of treasures inside.

St. Mary's church in Krakow, Poland.

A coffee shop in Beregovo, Zakarpathia, Ukraine.


Visitors. A Ukrainian wasp in Zoárd's glass.

View from the tower of the town hall in Lviv / Lemberg, Ukraine. This city was a great surprise, it looks like Prague or Krakow.

Us in Lviv / Lemberg, Ukraine.

A beautiful but unattended Polish castle in Podhorce, Ukraine.


On biketour behind God's back (Daia, Mures county).


The road and us. Nobody else as far as one can see.
 That's why I love Transylvania.


Before the Bartók memorial concert in November.

Playing Bartók.

The parcel sent by the mysterious Angel. 
Thank you, Angel, you are very kind. :)

Us under the Christmas tree.

On the road to Galicia - timezones, provodnik and the social nature of Ukrainian trains


"Ukraine as a holiday destination? You're mad." We heard that quite often and we got used to it. Beside curiosity we had an additional reason to go there: my great grandfather's brother is buried there. He joined the Austro-Hungarian army in 1914, was taken to Galicia to fight against Russia, survived a few battles fought around the town of Stryj, and died in August 1916 in the so-called Brusilov offensive. He was shot in the abdomen, died on the same day, at the age of 21, and was buried in Stryj. We still have the letter announcing his death. As traveling individually was not allowed in the Soviet times, his brother (my great grandpa) and sister could never visit his grave. Before passing away, the old lady gave my mother the few things of his late brother which she got back from the battlefield, and said: if anyone ever has the chance, please visit his grave.
 


So we packed our things and, after spending a night at a friend's house in Máramarossziget/Sighet, we crossed the border on foot and arrived to Solotvino/Aknaszlatina, a small town inhabited by Romanians, Hungarians and Ukrainians. Communication was not such a problem here, after all. We just had to find the person who spoke one of the languages we knew. Our train to Lviv / Lemberg was leaving around 6 p.m., so we had plenty of time to walk around. We went to the market and had shashlik and beer for lunch.

In the back streets people were chopping wood for winter.

Ukraine inherited its trains from the Soviet time. The rail is wider and traincars are much larger.  

 
Ukraine has 4 timezones and trains run according to Kiev time. BUT: in Solotvino they use the Central European one, which is one hour behind the Romanian one, which is 3 hours behind the Moscow timezone used in the eastern part of Ukraine... You got it, right? We asked 4 or 5 different people to make sure that we won't miss the train and to know the exact time. We tried to purchase places in a sleeping car but we only managed to get the so-called "platskartny" seats, in an open carriage. The cost was less than 2 euro/person for a 400 km ride but... The train car is open, everyone can see, hear, touch and smell everyone. 
 

Every traincar is accompanied by a provodnik, a carriage attendant who gives people blankets, hot water for tea and keeps order. As his salary is quite poor, he also sells beer and vodka to the passengers. There is only one train going to Lviv each day, so a car transporting prisoners was attached to the end of the train too.


It was an extremely social journey. We were the only foreigners on the train, we quickly became friends with a young local Hungarian man who translated for us. In just half an hour I was already chatting with Vladimir, a trauma doctor from Hust who was travelling to visit his son and grandchildren. Vladimir is in a good relationship with a few hospitals from Germany and takes medicines and other medical equipment to the warzone in Eastern Ukraine. Meanwhile my husband was talking to a Ukrainian family who wanted to share their dinner with us.


The man was preparing to leave for Russia to work. "But Ukraine is at war with Russia", I said. "I don't care. I can make money there, and that's all that matters. War is the business of politicians", he replied. After saying good bye to Vladimir and finishing a bottle of vodka and several beers with our neighbours, we prepared to get some sleep. A Russian lady from Sambir was napping on the opposite bed, my husband and son were sleeping on the upper ones. In a few hours nearly everyone was asleep, some were snoring, others were quietly scrolling their ipads or phones. I spoke a few words with the Russian lady and I was glad to find out that I could at least understand what she was saying. 

We were awaken by two old men and a drowsy boy sitting on the bed where the Russian lady used to sleep, and talking quite loudly. In an hour we arrived to Lviv / Lemberg, the largest city in Western Ukraine, the former capital of the Kingdom of Ruthenia, incorporated later into the Kingdom of Poland and then, the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. The 400 km journey lasted precisely 12 hours.

Euro, złoty, hryvnia - 3.

The road in Ukraine was bad, our speed was about 40-50 km per hour and the traffic was scarce. 

But the landscape was nice and everything looked like Romania 25-30 years ago. We caught a glimpse of the shining, golden roof of the very first Orthodox church. Then, in a village we noticed a beautiful, deserted Catholic church, a Polish one.




We were getting hungry, so we stopped at the first restaurant on the roadside. They served us a very tasty and inexpensive meal (the boys played chess while we were waiting for it) but while looking at the place, its visitors and their cars we kept on wondering whether it wasn't run by some shady guys...



We crossed tiny villages and churches with their golden roofs shining in the late afternoon sun. All trees were in flower and there was no piece of land left uncultivated. As Ukrainian wages are very low and roads are extremely bad, the traffic was very scarce. The road was getting worse and worse and we were advancing extremely slowly. We had about 120 km in front of us to the nearest town but we decided to continue the journey only the next day. So we stopped at the very first inn and asked for accomodation. They charged us 6 euro per person and we slept in a nice wooden chalet with all the comfort we needed. We met a group of young people from Kiev who were on a trip, some of them spoke very good English and were of great help in communicating with the locals. I still keep in touch with one of them: Olga, a young artist. We drank a few beers and some local vodka and went to bed.


Because of the condition of the road the next morning we started very early and without waiting for the staff to wake up to make breakfast for us. We advanced with the painstaking speed of 12-15 km per hour. We had to get out of the car very often to protect its bottom. There was almost no traffic at all, the air was fresh and clear, the landscape very beautiful. 


We were crossing a national park and we saw deer, foxes, rabbits and hunting birds on our journey. We stopped in Uzhok, a larger village to buy some breakfast. The simple village shop looked and smelt just like the ones in communist Romania. Marcel Proust was right: it is amazing how certain smells awake the memories of the past. We stepped into this small shop and I could suddenly picture the one in the village where I spent the vacations in my childhood.

Speaking Russian in Ukraine is not very appreciated right now, and I don't speak much Russian anyway. But one thing is true: if you speak one Slavonic language, you'll understand the rest. My Croatian is far from perfect but is very helpful when I have to deal with people who only speak Ukrainian or Russian. The shopkeeper was a very nice lady who suggested some freshly baked doughnuts filled with sausages. They warmed it for us in the microwave oven and gave us napkins. We asked for some kefir and we had a delicious breakfast. Village people were coming and going on the road while we were eating. We were the first foreigners seen within months probably, tourists don't just walk around like in other parts of Europe.

The meeting point of two counties (oblast) is marked by a barrier guarded by armed policemen. We were stopped, our car and papers were checked. It seemed that they were looking for a reason to make us pay. We telephoned our friends' friend, a journalist who explained them that we were journalists too (well, at least our friends are...), so they allowed us to pass.

The road improved as we approached Uzhgorod (Ungvár in Hungarian), our next stop. We walked through the city a bit and took some time to get a good look of the bridge decorated with lovers' locks. We also have such a bridge in my hometown but it's a far cry from this one. Ukrainians are serious about love, or at least about showing it to the world. As we were about 1000 km from the warzone, the large number of soldiers walking up and down the city were the only sign of the ongoing conflict.







We had some coffee and a cake, my son had a big icecream, then we visited the fortress. The lady at the entrance was Hungarian and we had a nice chat with her. She told us that Hungarians from Hungary stopped coming since the war broke out but the number of Transylvanian visitors was rising.


We continued our journey to Mukachevo (in Hungarian: Munkács).They have a pretty castle on the top of a hill which played an interesting role in Hungarian history. We had a very forgettable meal in an expensive restaurant with really bad service. As it was our next stop, we went into a shop to buy a few things. Ukrainian vodka is really good, so I asked for a bottle of Horticia, the only brand I was familiar with. The lady at the counter put the bottle in front of me and said: this is made in Harkov (a town situated in the Russian inhabited part of the country), why don't you buy a vodka made here, around Lviv? It is also good, and it is ours. I was a bit surprised (also because I understood the sentence without problem) but then I said to myself: ok, why not? And we bought the other bottle too. But I was surprised to encounter such a reflection of ethnic tensions.

I liked Ukraine very much, it reminds me of Romania as it was 25 years ago. It is affordable even for us, I liked the landscape, the people, the food and I'm already making plans to go back to visit Lviv and its surroundings, and to look for the grave of a family member of mine who died here during the 1st World War and is buried around Stryj somewhere. Traveling by car is not a wise option but we don't have a car anyway. Buses and trains are very old but I don't mind. So I hope to see you soon, Ukraine.