Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

And we're back...

I arrived in Lviv at 5:30am after eight hours on the train sitting across from a gorgeous Ukranian woman. She spoke great English and gave me tea and beer. Definitely the most pleasant train ride I've had. After checking into my hostel I decided to head to the town square and watch the town wake up.


Four hours later I realized that this town was on a different schedule than I'm used to. Around 9am People began trickling out of their apartments, opening up their shops and cafes, and piling into the trams (I love trams) to get to work. During those four hours I walked over to a beautiful cemetery I had read about. It was closed, not surprisingly, but I went in anyway cause I'm a tourist and I don't know any better (I did, but I can act clueless). The oldest grave I saw was frm 1779.


After the graveyard I went searching for the local synagogue, as has become customary in every city I visit. The one here was in horrible shape, and a nice old lady I met explained to me that the roof had been torn off a couple of years ago by a strong wind and only recently had they raised enough money to fix it, so the inside was in bad shape. Not to mention it was used as a stable for horses during the war.


Next up was a hike to High Castle, where there is no castle, but a spectacular view over the city. It's a much bigger city than it seems, especially if you keep to the old city.


Later I met a couple of guys, Frederick from France and Robin from Austria, in my hostel who were going out to a bar and I decied to join them. It was a really cool, kitschy old bar where the bouncer says something like "Glory to Ukraine" and you have to respond "Geroyim Slava" or, "Glory to the people." Inside was a lively group of locals, and later, some lively music to which everyone sang along. We met a couple Ukranian girls there. I made it back to the hostel around 4am.


Needless to say, the next day I was pretty exhausted. Good thing I had a cafe day planned. I hopped around from one cafe to another, each having its own theme and unique atmosphere, along with (what I've learned since moving West) cheap coffee. Halfway through the day I met up with Frederick who joined my cafe hopping. We ate dinner at this awesome Ukranian cafeteria. I left for Krakow the next morning at 7:30.


And that was my Lviv experience. For a big city it has a surprisingly small, laid back feel, which was just what I needed after all those trains and all those huge cities. The coffee was good, the beer and vodka were cheap, and the people were lovely. I'm very glad I got a chance to see Ukraine's second city. It is definitely a special place.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Krakow - All it's cracked up to be?

I don't really know if I'm ready to write about this. Maybe because I haven't had enough time to reflect, maybe because I'm having so much fun traveling that the somber feeling doesn't last. Maybe because it will never be written about the way it should be. But I will try.

Preface: Disturbing stuff to follow. The first word of the first paragraph will give you a little indication.

2nd Preface: I did this yesterday, and I had to write about it now while it's fresh in my mind. I will resume proper chronology at the next post.

Auschwitz. I used to think the name was enough. Enough to visualize, to think about, even to understand the tragic extent of the Holocast. Enough to cloud eyes with mourning, conversations with sadness, and days with loss. I was wrong. At least my image was, my thoughts were. I realized that as soon as I arrived.

First of all, tourists suck. That place should be open to one person or one family at a time, free to walk in silence. Instead, most people go in huge groups on guided tours. Needless. Talking has no effect there. Neither do facts. We all know the facts, most of them anyway. The staggering numbers, the names, the dates. But we don't hear them or feel how close they are to us, how real they are. The only sound in that place should be the rocks grinding under your feet. The only movement, you and your thoughts. Sometimes, though, from across the camp, the lines of tour groups marching in step across the grounds show you what it may have been like when prisoners were there... with brightly colored clothing, sunglasses, and digital cameras.

The camp is now a museum. Officially the "Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum." Many of the former barracks have been turned into exhibition halls. A few show the Holocaust experience from the perspective of different countries, while others show prison life and "evidence of crimes." The evidence are huge piles of everyday items. Eye glasses, dishes, combs, suitcases, shoes (adult and child), and perhaps most disturbing, equipment of the disabled. Just in piles.

Auschwitz itself is quite small. It would take maybe 20 minutes to walk around the whole camp if there was nothing to see. I decided to make two rounds: one without and one with a camera. The infamous gateway with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work makes you free) came at me so fast I didn't think it was real. It doesn't look real in color, against green grass and a blue sky. I walked around slowly, guideless, aimless, trying to listen. After viewing the piles of evidence, I sat down in a grassy yard between the barracks and ate a simple lunch of bread, cream cheese, and jelly. Imagine. This was not a place for a Jewish man. This was not a place to sit or eat or relax. But here I was. A testament to my people, my culture, and our courage. Sometimes life is a struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Rarely is it so clear who is who and what is what. But we are good. We are right. And we won. I am proof.

But we also lost. It was at that moment that I became terrified. This camp was built for me. This was a place for a Jewish man, for all Jewish men. I was to die. Eventhough I was not alive, I was a gleam in the eye of the Furher. He knew I was coming and he couldn't let that happen. Millions died to ensure I would not live. The weight of so many people is on the shoulders of every Jewish person now living. It is not a burden or a responsibility, but a reminder. A reminder that this can happen. That there is evil in the world, and that you can always be a target. All you can do is try to be at peace at that moment. I savored every bite of my sandwich.

On that day I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Like so many Jews before me, I walked into a gas chamber. I knew I was going to come out, but that did not make it any easier. As I got closer, every step screamed "I can't do this, I can't do this. I have to do this." I was alone, but I was in line. Marching with my people. I walked through the door that so many people would never see opened again. Inside were the furnaces, and the pipes, and the chimney. Silence. I couldn't move. There were too many of us. The door was open and I found myself outside again.

Auschwitz. No longer an image.

If Auschwitz was disturbing, Birkenau was terrifying. Much, much bigger than Auschwitz, Birkenau was where the crematorium and most of the gas chambers were. Where people came to die. Most of the buildings were in ruins. There is one train track to the camp, and it goes through the main gate. At the other end of the camp, it stops. Trains came here for one purpose. They came full of people and left, empty, on the same tracks. The "selection platform," where the people were unloaded, is gigantic. 70% went to the gas chambers upon arrival. I walked its length twice, again, just listening.

I don't really know if I was ready to write about this. I don't have much to say really. No lessons or pleas or statements, hopes or illusions about war and peace, or ideological definitions hardened by reality.What I know is this: I left Auschwitz more unsure about life than I've ever been. About fear, religion, purpose, truth, everything. I also left Auschwitz more sure about my life than I've ever been. I know I'm living how I'm supposed to, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to, and I know wherever I go from here, I will enjoy it.

I also know that you (yes, you) have to go to Auschwitz.

Post-face: No other pictures on this post because, again, not easy stuff to look at. Proceed to the photo album if you wish.

Europe! Oh, sweet Europe. I can't tell you how excited I was to finally be in Kiev. Hostels a-plenty, public trashcans, good beer, plentiful coffee, western toilets, interesting architetcture... Kiev did not disappoint. I booked a hostel online and, after a good 45 minutes of trying to find the place, set my bags down in a lovely, quiet place run by three wonderful Ukranian girls. I arrived at 3pm, utterly exhausted, but I figured I shouldn't waste what was left of the day. I walked around the city a bit, marveling at the colorful buildings, looking for something I hadn't seen in 6 months: a synagogue. I found it easily enough, had a look around, and decided to come back the next morning (saturday) for services.


Back at the hostel I met my new roommates, Colin and Josh from Missouri and Seattle respectively.


Josh let me play his guitar, which I hadn't done since a week before leaving Korea. Later, Colin and I went out to see some live Ukranian rock music at a local bar. The beer and tunes were great, the honey and pepper vodka was cheap and harsh. Still, I managed to get to bed early, and I had a good nights sleep, finally, on a comfortable bed.


The next day I woke up and went to services. Geez, I haven't done that since I was 13 years old. It was pretty amazing. I'm not religious at all, but I have a very strong connection with the Jewish community, culture, and heritage. Nothing in my six months abroad was as comforting as walking into that synagogue on Saturday morning. It was as close to home as I'd been since I left. I knew the people, I knew the songs, I even remembered some of the words. I knew the dovenning and the mumbling and the big, bushy beards (I definitely fit in). I'm not religious at all, but it was comforting to be in the presence of those who were, of those who came before me and those who will come after me, of the traditions that connect us all, no matter where we come from or what we believe.

After the service I took a walk around the city. Through parks, green and gorgeous; cathedrals, clean and colorful; up and over hills with fantastic views of the city.


I stumbled upon this amazing stree lined with paintings by local artists.


I followed it for a long while to a gorgeous church perched high above the city, then down a winding cobblestone road back to town. Then, stopping along the main street to sit on a bench and listen to some street jazz, I ran into Colin again. For a city of 2 million, its pretty small. Not really, its a sprawling metropolis, its just the old city that's small, and that's where I spent my time. Anyway, we had some dinner and headed back to the hostel.

Before coming to Kiev there were three things I knew I wanted to see there. One was Chernobyl. Tours cost in the €120 range, which was way too expensive for me, so I decided to pass on that. Besides, I don't really need the radiation. The second was Babi Yar, site of one of the first and one of the largest mass killings of Jews during the second world war.


Today its a park, with a few monuments remembering those kiilled. Unfortunately there's not much to see, or even to feel. Even that feeling of something terrible happened here never came to me. Whether its denial or acceptance, forgetting or moving on, the people of Kiev have turned this blood-soaked ravine into a tranquil place for a Sunday stroll. Not at all what I was expecting, but really everything I could have hoped for. A real and complete transition from war to peace. Oh, and I had the best pizza I've ever had for dinner.

The third thing I wanted to see was the Lavra Monastery. Built originally underground in the 11th century, over the next few centuries this compound evolved into a sanctuary for gorgeous churches.


The caves dug by the first monks became their tombs, which you can delve into if you please. I did, and it was one of the more thrilling, creepy, and strange experiences I've had. There were two almost pitch black passageways underground, each with small santctuaries, rooms where the monks lived, and narrow halls linking them all together. Lining the walls were the coffins of the clergy (the flash really takes away the creepy atmosphere). Above ground, the churches were beautiful and the scenery fantastic. I spent most of the day there before boarding the train in the evening.


While I was in Kiev I found out that the route to Krakow requires a train change in Lviv, Ukraine's "most beautiful city." So I decided to end my stay in Kiev a little early and spend some time there.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Lviv - Ukraine's most beautiful city?

Beijing has four train stations. Four gigantic train stations. My train left from the West Beijing Railway Station. It was there that I made my first big mistake of this trip. I booked the cheapest ticket I could get. The infamous "hard seat." I decided to skip two of my planned stops in China because, well, after six months in Asia I was ready to leave. So, the ride was from Beijing to Urumqi, the largest city in the Xinjang province of China, and it took 42 hours. These were the longest 42 hours of my life. Theres a lot of people in China so, naturally, the trains are crowded. Especially the cars with the cheap seats. Some people even stood for the entire trip. Not to mention the fact that no one checks their bags. After the overhead racks were filled and bags were shoved under seats and tables, they began setting the bags on our headrests and tying them to coat hooks on the walls.


My seat was softer than the "hard" label implies, but still extremely uncomfortable. Four people were situated around a tiny table, knees touching, practically unable to move. For 42 hours. The girl next to me was nice enough, but the couple across the table were difficult. They brought along their one year old baby.

Let me tell you something about Chinese babies. They don't wear diapers. They wear crotch-less pants so they get used to squatting for the wonderful squat toilets in China. Back in Beijing Sara and I had discussed this phenomenon. We understood how it could be effective outside, but we didn't understand how it functions indoors. Turns out its just the same as outside: babies piss and shit whereever, whenever. On a train. For 42 hours. Also, everyone smokes on the train. They crowd near the smoking section but inevitably they spill out into the main part of the car. For 42 hours. Each stop lasted maybe 10 minutes, but the line to get off the train for a smoke - or in my case just a break from the madness - was so long that I only had about two minutes to breathe the fresh (polluted) air and jump around a bit. I lived for those two minutes. The scenery also left much to be desired. Endless grey city or endless brown desert, with a few desert mountains sprinkled in. A couple of times I wasn't sure I was going to make it, but I did, and now I've got a great story to tell.


Upon arriving in Urumqi, I immediately went to buy a ticket to Kazakhstan and ensure a seat on the next leg of my journey. I wanted to go to Almaty, but as it turns out the railway south was closed due to snow. So I had to go to Astana. And the once-weekly train to Astana left at midnight the following day. No way was I going to stay in Urumqi for a week, so I got the ticket... this time, a sleeper.

I spent the rest of that day and the next walking around Urumqi. Another typical Asian city: loud, dirty, polluted, crowded.


But a few places had some serious charm. I found a few beautiful mosques, and the Xinjang Museum of Regional Autonomy was pretty interesting, with cultural displays of the many, many different people who live in this part of China, as well as a few desert mummies found nearby.


The "People's Park" was also really interesting with live Chinese folk music, kite flyers, and, believe it or not, trees.


An hour before my next train left I got sick, most likely from the previous train ride (China doesn't have any hand sanitizer). I was sooo happy to have a sleeper. For 38 hours. I also met a really nice Kazakh girl named Aliya who invited me to stay with her in Karganda, but I just felt too sick and I needed some time to recover. I shared my room with two nice Kazakh's, Ale and Sergei, mother and son, who only spoke Russian.


I tried to learn a Russian card game with Sergei but I couldn't get the hang of it. The rest of the time I slept and felt generally horrible. For 38 hours. Not much to look at outside on this ride either. Once the desert ended the steppe began and it was endless flatland with the dead grass of winter. But oh my god there was a sunset without the haze of pollution. I hadn't seen one of those for a while.


In Astana I wanted to accomplish two things: get better, and get a Russian transit visa. I spent two days in my hostel in the train station reading, eating when I could, and sleeping. The third day I ventured out to get my Russian visa which cost a fortune. While waiting I walked around the city with a really nice German guy I met at the hostel and had some delicious Kazakh food because I could finally eat again. Astana is a very pretty and very new city. Also very wealthy.


Russian visa in hand, I boarded the train for Kiev, Ukraine the next day.


I was finally ready to enjoy the train ride. Again I had a sleeper, and I was the only one in my compartment which slept 4. For 72 hours. Mostly steppe out the window again, until we got to the rolling hills of Russia.


But Russia brought a set of problems. When I got to the border with Russia the Kazakh border officials told me, what I already knew, that the train left Kazakhstan, went to Russia, came back into Kazakhstan for 200km, then back to Russia, then Ukraine. I told this to the embassy in Seoul and they said a single entry visa was fine. The border officials said I would have to get off the train at the next border crossing. They said they could help if I gave them money. I didn't have much cash so I said no.

During this time I met another German guy who was the only other person on the train who could speak English. He seemed nice enough, told me he'd rode this train many times and that often bribes are necessary. He lent me a bit of money just in case I needed it at the next border. Before we reached the border I befriended some Russian officials who were riding the train by giving them some "souveniers" (a pen from America, and one from Korea). I don't know if it was with their help or not, but there were no problems at any of the borders from there on. Speaking of border crossings, they all happen between midnight and 4am, and they take several hours.


Its very scary to be woken up by large men in uniform demanding to see your passport.

Later on this German guy started to give me the creeps. He talked about how Polish people were horrible theives, and so were Ukranians. I helped him with his bags in the train station once we got to Kiev (he had like 5 huge bags for some reason) but I was happy to be rid of him.

Anyway, 72 hours later I arrived in Kiev, exhausted, hungry (I didn't bring quite enough food), and with a head full of Daniel Quinn's thought provoking views on life, as his book My Ishmael kept me good company on the train. That's right folks, one hundred and fifty hours of trains in one and a half weeks. I couldn't wait to get to Europe, and now that I'm here, I couldn't be happier.

True to my word, I left Seoul on a boat headed for Tianjin, and my much talked about journey had begun. Towards the end of my stay in Korea I was seriously questioning my desire to avoid flying, especially considering my only real phobia is of large bodies of water. But, I put my head down, powered through, bought a ticket, and boarded a huge motherfucking boat for China. It was everything I had hoped for. Nice beds, a smooth ride, time to relax and reflect on time well spent on the other side of the world. And the sea is beautiful. At night, when it was ear-numbingly cold, I went out on the deck and saw complete blackness, except for a few dots of light on the horizon and the wake of the boat.


We also sailed under the longest bridge in the world, the Incheon Bridge, completed just a few months ago. Very cool.


When I got to Tianjin I boarded a bus to Beijing. I thought the ride would take an hour or so, but it ended up taking three. Once in Beijing, I managed to negotiate a taxi ride and by nightfall I had met up with my step-sister Sara, her husband Petri, and their 2 year old son, Emil. They live in a really cool studio where Sara is getting schooled on architecture. One of her classmates put me up in a hotel room he wasn't using in their village. The village, Cao Chang Di was easily the coolest part of Beijing for me. A small village on the outskirts of the city, Cao Chang Di is home to a thriving arts community along with a hard working local community trying to avoid being sucked up into the gigantic vacuum cleaner that is Beijing. I spent a few days biking around the area, eating at the small restuarants, hanging out with Sara, Petri, and their friends, and soaking up the lifestyle.


Petri showed me a really great view of the city from the top of a landfill, where we also found many kids playing. In the village at the foothills of this landfill I had one of the best meals of my life, and I got it simply by pointing blindly at a Mandarin menu.


Right next to Cao Chang Di is the center for contemporary art in the arts center of China: 798. 798 was at one time a factory complex, and now houses the most intense consentration of art galleries I've ever seen. I spent a whole day walking around the place and I'm sure I didn't even hit half of the galleries. I find most contemporary art to be strange and silly, but there was also some really cool stuff there.


One of my days I spent with Petri and Emil walking around Tianamen Square. It's not that easy with a two year old, but aside from the incredible scale of the place and the awe-inspiring feeling I got from standing in front of the seat of government of the biggest and most powerful country in the world, it was relatively unimpressive.


The National Museum of China was closed, and the Forbidden City, while gigantic, is not so very different from many of the temples I saw in Korea. Though, if you were going to visit only one, I'd say this is the one to see. Also, there are so many reasons to call it the "Forbidden City." First, locals have to show their passports to get in and some were denied entry. Second, theres like 4 gates to get through before you're in the city itself. Third, theres so many people there that you can barely move. Fourth, the ticket office is no where close to the entry way and its not easy to find. I could go on, but I won't. This is how I've found most of the touristy stuff in (developed) Asia: too many visitors and not enough satisfaction.


The Great Wall was different. It is one of the few places I've seen that has lived up to its billing. Of course, that may be because I didn't go to the touristy part. Theres about 6 sections to choose from around Beijing, and I chose the furthest from the city. After I found the bus station, thanks to the help of two German guys, a mini-bus driver picked me out of the crowd and asked if I was going to Simatai, which was the section of the wall I wanted to see. Two hours later I was climbing a ridiculously steep section of the Great Wall, unrestored, and with very few tourists.


The views were stunning, even in winter, and the scale of the wall was amazing, exciting, terrifying, and... confusing. There was no way this wall could hold up against an assault. It merely added 10 or so feet to the tops (and bottoms) of 2000 meter high mountains, making them essentially 2003 meters tall with semi-flat places for soldiers to stand. Effective or not, that anyone could construct this thing is absolutely astounding.


My impressions of Beijing were mixed. It is a huge city with an incredible number of people, many of them extremely wealthy and many of them extremely poor. The city itself I did not like. Too big, too many people, too much pollution. Basically its your typical developed Asian city, and I had had enough of that in Korea. Once you step outside the fifth ring road, though, it gets interesting and fun. The small villages give an insight into what I think is, or what used to be, real China, and I am so glad to have stayed in one of the last remaining vestiges of that culture in Beijing.

Next week on Plains, Trains, and Wagons East: The Hard Seat - Curse, or Death Curse?

Real Time Update: I've just arrived in Lviv, Ukraine after four wonderful days in Kiev.

Ok, first of all, apologies all around. My last week in Korea was extremely hectic. Combine that with the fact that China and Kazakhstan do not like blogging, and you have a long stretch of inactivity on what I assume is the most interesting thing you've ever read. I'm sure its been tough, but its all over now. I'm in Kiev, Ukraine and I can blog again.

So let's catch up.

My last week in Korea was incredible, for so many reasons. I went out with friends almost every night to celebrate and/or mourn my departure. It's a great feeling to see different people every night and know that you have amazing friends who will miss you as much as you will miss them. And I know it won't be the last time I see most of these folks... I'll make sure of that.

Also, in the social arena, I met an awesome Korean girl named Sunny. We hit it off and spent a lot of time together during my last week. I kinda wish I had met her earlier on, but at the same time, we both knew the score and it made our time together that much more gratifying.

And then there's the kids. It's hard saying goodbye to one thousand kids. Although I think its easier than saying goodbye to just a few. Either way, my last week at work consisted of the usual parade of classes, but this time, everytime, I had to say goodbye. Every class had a few students that I knew well and it was tough to say goodbye to them. There were so many shocked a disappointed faces (the Korean teachers made me wait to tell the students I was leaving until our last class together). When the class ended, after I had taken pictures, there were hugs. Lots of hugs. I never realized how much the kids liked me. As sad as it was, it was also the most gratifying experience of this entire Korea experiment, and I had it 6 times a day for a week. Pretty cool.

Other than that, my last week was pretty normal. Packing, booking tickets, saying goodbye to teachers, getting supplies for my 3 month trip... you know, the usual.

It was a strange feeling leaving Korea. The fact that my last week was so amazing made it much more difficult. That, along with intense emotions across the entire spectrum, made me second guess my decision to leave. But now that I'm gone I know I made the right decision. I'm going to remember and miss Korea, my kids, and my friends for the rest of my life.

One of the worst feelings I've ever experienced is the feeling that you've left a part of yourself somewhere far away. One of the best feelings I've ever experienced is the feeling that there is a part of yourself alive somewhere far away, somewhere you can visit whenever you want if you just close your eyes.