Month: March 2014

25.03.2014: Asleep by about 2am. Remembered to switch the headlights off by about 3am. Found the seat reclining lever by about 4am. Woke up at 6am to the realisation that I was in quite an active bus station. I looked at Mike Tyson’s face on the side of my Black Energy drink and swigged large. Turned Radio Crim on to find them playing Tetris, that europop version. I switch Radio Crim back off again, for the final time. This new dawn.

Just as an aside: Leisurewear. It’s still massively, massively in vogue out here. The two piece tracksuit seems to have held its appeal like no other garment. It speaks volumes about the wearer: I am street; I am a contender; I am ready to get athletic at any given second; my logo’d brethren and I belong to the same tribe and we care not for taste.

Well anyway, I had to return the car by lunchtime so unfortunately most of the day revolved around that and therefore having to hang around the railway station until my 17h10 overnighter. Just before I made the train, I wanted to load up on food and drink for what’s going to be the next 14 hours. First two machines weren’t taking my card then I noticed other people struggling to take money out also and there was a queue coming out of the bank over the road. Was this what they call a ‘run on the banks’? Never one to miss out on a decent queue I went over to join them where smugly, my money was offering itself out. So because no one else could get any cash, I somehow thought I should stock up on their behalf. I now have several hundred hrvina that I will need to change up when I get back to Gatwick. Tit.

26.03.2014: So I came to Crimea straight after it fell back into Russian hands and from where I’ve been standing, everybody down there seems pretty cool about the situation, in fact more than cool, I get the feeling that the vast majority of Crimeans are actually pleased about the annexation. It’s only Kiev (and the rest of the country?) that isn’t. When Cornwall goes, will I care? Yes I think I would actually, but I like the idea of union not division (although that could be an argument for Putin), which is why I’m pro-Europe. I refer you to my former comment: Why can’t we all just get along. Come on guys, let’s go down the pub.

15h02, 24.03.2014. I come downstairs to the addition of a British flag alongside the other two. I feel honoured. They also have pictures on the walls of the famous names who have been here. Tony Blair, Bill Clinton, Vladimir Klitschko (although to be fair he’s all over the shop around here) but more importantly: only Gloria Bloody Gaynor! Yes her, she who will survive.

So after a full belly load of breakfast, waiting for that to go down then a 50 minute in-room workout session, I came out for a stroll along the prom prom prom listening to my tunes, feeling supercharged, feeling happy as a pig in shit actually. I’m so pleased I made this trip. It’s a zero cloud, blue sky day. That sunshine feels good.

Meanwhile, “The Ukraine acting President has ordered all Ukraine troops to withdraw from Crimea due to threats to life.”, so that’s nice.

I kept on walking and found this lone guy, doing his flipping parkour on to the beach at the west end of the front. Cool as the cucumber. Was happy for me to take some shots, will upload when home. Heading back to the car with the intention of getting on my way, I came across a statue of Lenin, at the foot of which a large tent with various documents pinned on to it, lots of red, white and blue and supporters hanging about, chatting away about it all. Ironically, Lenin’s gaze was straight at this here McDonalds, so I grabbed a coffee and some WiFi under my comrade’s direction. Power to the people.

18h43 24.03.2014, I’ve been driving for some time along the wiggly mountain roads head east along the south coast towards Feodosiya. It’s dark but I’ve pulled up by the sea which I wanted to touch before I leave this part of the world. Repulsed by the quality of music on the radio, I’ve been playing whatever I’ve got on my phone, although we’re already doing the second round. ‘Careless Whisper’ has just come on and quite frankly I wish it was something a bit more relevant.

Feodosiya turns out to be a large, neat enough, port town, this place along with the rest of the country feels safe even at night. I take a long walk around the place, grab some substandard sushi and cherry juice before deciding that this morning’s events have been and gone. But still not ready for sleep, I decide the drive the remaining two hours back to Simferopol where I pull over, take my blankie out and try to get comfortable.

08h05, 23.03.2014. Slept better. The bald bloke with the ‘tache is really good at snoring. He’s also really good at attempting to fix the compartment door throughout the night. I awake just outside of the peninsula with less than 2 hours to go. Fairly non-descript scenery, fog, fields, the odd concrete bridge here, disused farm building there. The women next door have already started their gassing for the day. Like their lives depended on it. Women and talking, we’ll leave that one there for now.

Taxi over to the all but dead airport. As expected, Budget Hire Car (along with every other main brand) are shut as (despite my travel agency double confirming “no, no the car is definitely booked and ready for you.”). Just opposite the main International Departures building though I found a local one, nice bloke, good English, explained to me that the banks are now playing up as things change over to Russia and that the deposit that they block authorise from your card  – they currently can’t unblock it, and it could be like this for some time. Not a problem, let’s just get the car shall we. Russian state TV plays out in the background of his office.

Posters up all over the place reminding everybody of the March 16th vote. Most flags down here are Russian (95.5%?). On buildings, cars, shops, posters, wherever I go it all appears to be pro-Russian. I asked the cabbie whether we were in Ukraine or Russia. He gesticulated by covering his ears and shaking his head that he’d just heard too much about it already. Or that he hated my company and I should never ever question his politics again.

17h44, Savastopol, a pleasant cafe near the Black Sea. In fact I’ve been to about 4 of this chain now, couldn’t tell you what they’re called as it’s in Cyrillic but they’re all beiges and browns. All very professional and they don’t ask me what my name is. Very brief power cut. Drove around the city twice trying to locate something other than every day life, but somehow somewhat disappointingly, that’s all there is. People strolling along the promenade, lovers canoodling, a steady flow of traffic going about its business.

• The Russian rouble is the official currency here as of today.
• Bypassed the road to Balaklava. Fact: Balaklavas were a British invention, they were knitted by the soldiers’ old dears and sent out to keep them snug during the Crimean War.

Been listening mainly to Radio Crim and Shiyeet FM, both given carefully considered names. Lots of rhetoric about Ukraine, Russia, Villiam Hague, Americanski, Obama. And then a Ukrainian radio play which sounded good too. Same shit, different frequency. Art imitating life imitating…

01h39, 24.03.2012: Spent about 2 hours trying to work out the roads into and around Yalta. Nearly slept in the car until I found the Oreanda Hotel at about 00h30.  Yalta seems a nice quite upmarket seaside town. They (the Yaltese?) are however trying their best to naff it up with brightly coloured, badly placed children’s play areas and fairy lights. I’m flagging, best go to bed, will get some phys in tomorrow morning. On the front desk downstairs there are two miniature flags in a little stand, one Russian, one Ukrainian. Looks like someone’s hedging their bets. Choose a side. Or don’t. Whatever really. Night.

Modern airport, middle aged bloke with a hip Klitschko beanie hat, uninterestingly shaking hands with someone he’s introduced to in the currency exchange queue at the airport. Lots of neatly presented young women on their phones. Fat, grumpy, older women serving behind counters. Language may be a bit of an issue here, this isn’t like the rest of Europe where you can rely on the fact that everyone speaks a modicum of English. They don’t. I locate confirmation from Ukraine International Airlines that there will be no flight into Simferopol until April. So putting aside any forthcoming admin nonsense for a potential refund on that part of the flight and my hire car, am heading into Kiev. But I change up the £30 I had left in my wallet and move outside to locate the 322 into town.

18h46, 21.03.2014: Am on the bus. Clean straight road heading into central Kiev, about 45 minutes away. To all intents, just another prosperous eastern European city. Going to go straight to the railway station in the hope that I might be able to catch a sleeper south this evening or suss out what options there are. And surely someone there would know whether I’d be allowed into Crimea (‘Crim’ they pronounce it).

At the railway station I’m immediately accosted by various hawkers with alcoholic breath, I play hide and seek with them for a bit then queue at a ticket window after seeing that there’s a train that leaves tonight bound for Simferopol. After 20 minutes queueing I’m told by another fat grumpy lady that it’s sold out so I go down to the platform to see if I can just get on anyway. I once, maybe 1997, got a train all the way from Mumbai to Calcutta for free this way but no luck here. Every entrance to the train has a guard wearing a really large hat, indicating that they mean business so I retreat back upstairs for a ham and cheese roll (bonus: coriander), beer and a Bounty then queue for another twenty minutes for another fat and grumpy lady to see if I can get a ticket for tomorrow. With a bit of help from a kind woman who clocks the communication breakdown, I walk away a little later, ticket in hand. Looks like I’m going to Crimea after all. And this on the day that the BBC has as its headline: Putin Signs Crimea Annexation.

I haggle for a 40 hryvnia taxi (started at 100, thank you) to the Chillout Hostel not far away. Settle into a dorm, head to a 24 hour coffee shop for a couple of hours so find myself up until 03h20. The guy in the bunk below has obviously been placed there to test me.

12h50, I’m in the air and above the clouds already. Seatbelts off.

I booked this flight a fortnight ago. Yes I had just returned from the pub but at the time I wasn’t working and saw this as a little opportunity to do something different; to get me a mini-adventure. A UK to Ukraine return flight at less than £300 is money bloody well spent for someone who’s otherwise sitting around twiddling their thumbs/ jobhunting. In the two weeks since booking though, I’ve now got a couple of job offers – so all the more reason to make hay whilst the sun shines.

What’s the big idea? What kind of hay are you making? I’m not quite sure but I have my camera, I have this here laptop and I have intrigue and a want to just see what’s going on out here and share, if it is that I do chance upon anything of note. I also have a workout schedule of sorts to keep. London Marathon is only three weekends away and I keep getting emails from the charity I’m running for telling me that I’m supposed to be tapering. I’ve been tapering for about 6 months now. So shooting, typing, reading, exercise, travel. All good.

Woke up this morning to my phone (Google Now) telling me that the second leg of my flight was cancelled. That’s the Kiev to Simferopol bit which would take me into Crimea as originally intended. No surprise, but not what I wanted. First thoughts are to now have tonight out and about in Kiev, and speak to whoever I can about what would happen if tomorrow morning I took the train down to Crimea. Would I even be able to get in if I got down there? If the bloke at the gates is Russian then he’ll want me to have a visa, which I don’t have. So if I really cannot get into Crimea I’ll travel around as much as I can, maybe keeping close to the Black Sea, we’ll see, until I fly back next Weds 26th morning.