Tuesday - Day of confusion

We are still in Kyiv. Our train is scheduled to leave in 4 hours. We will be picked up in 2 hours. Our plans today were to keep a low profile, relaxing around the flat. It has been relaxation interspersed with panic.

Let me start with a short description of our current abode. There is a hallway door which is locked, and then the door to our flat. They are 2 inches apart. I guess they have double doors because the KGB used to knowdown their doors to get in. There are 4 flats on our hallway behind the hallway door and a buzzer for each flat. Because we have always gone out as a group, we have had no need for the buzzer.

Around 11am today, we heard a chirping in our flat. Surprised, we started checking for any rogue parakeets which might have flown into our flat through an open window. The chirping grew more insistent. Finally, we discovered the source of the chirping in a little box by the front door. Ever the sharp family, we deduced that it must be coming from the buzzer at the hallway door. Bravely, the family pushed Joe out into the hallway to answer. Opening the door, Joe encountered a woman speaking either Russian or Ukranian very quickly. Joe backed slowly toward the flat, afraid this was a raid from the dreaded KGB. After a few confusing minutes, during which no guns were drawn or handcuffs displayed, Joe realized he was probably not in danger. Wendy thought fast and tossed Joe the cell phone we had bought for use here. A call to Valentine brought no answer. A call to Edward brought no answer. A call to Andrew brought an answer, quickly followed by a Call Ended message. After several attempts, we were able to establish a connection with Andrew and handed the phone to the mystery woman so he could find out what she wanted. She wanted to know when we were leaving. Ahhh, we could answer that. We were able to tell her that we would be leaving at 5:45 that evening. Crisis averted. We thought....

Around 2pm, the parakeet trapped in the little box began chirping again. Confidently, Joe went to the hallway door and opened it. It was the woman who had shown us the flat when we arrived on Friday, Lena. She also was speaking in a foreign language which Joe could not understand. Where do these people think they are. They should be speaking English.... Oh, maybe not; sorry.

Once again, we grabbed our trusty cell phone and started calling around, and getting Call Ended message after Call Ended message. We pantomined to the woman that we were trying to call Valentin, but our phone was not working. She looked up his phone number in her address book and called using her phone. After connecting, she handed the phone to us. Valentin explained that there was a checkout time of noon, and she would need another 200 grivnas for us to stay until 5:45. It would have been good to know that ahead of time. We could have saved approximately $40 and sat outside with our bags for the 6 hours. Or wandered the streets of Kyiv dragging our bags behind us. All 5 of them.

Later, we used our "state of the art" cell phone to call the Matthews and let them know of our experiences. After several dropped calls, we discovered the secret. There was a 2 sq. ft. box in the bedroom where the cell phone worked perfectly, if you stayed perfectly still with your left arm cocked at a 54 degree angle and your right hand pointed NNW.

So lesson learned, allow for checkout time on the day you are leaving, and make prior arrangements when paying up front.

We have to close the blog now. We have left Graham back in the flat, and have to check to make sure the KGB has not burst in to pick him up on charges of turning the stereo all the way up to 11.

For those of you have left comments in our blog, we thank you for the thoughts and prayers. For those who have asked questions, Wendy has left a comment on yesterdays blog with answers.

Next posting will be from Mariupol (or a gulag somewhere if we do not get out of the flat by 5:45).

Wendy here, when these people talk to us they speak very quickly and loudly (which is good because some of you know I am deaf). Even though we know they are not yelling at us, well I guess we don't know that, it seems like it. When a Frenchman cusses you out it sounds like poetry, when a Ukrainian woman compliments you it sounds as if she is cussing you out. The French at least smile when they hate you. I guess I have discovered that this language is harsh even in the best of times. Poor Kolya, we will be very patient with him and pantomine EVERYTHING. :)