Covered in mosquito welts, we broke camp and planned our morning. With our trusty Russian map pointing us in the right direction, we took off, with the first goal of the day was to find water. This lead us a few kilometers down the road to a village so small it did not even show up on the map. Our usual request for water was made to a middle aged woman at the gate to her house. When we said we were Americans, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Surely, these people are crazy, and they are skinny, is what we guess she was thinking. We were shooed into the front yard of her home, where introductions were made all around. Tanya, Anna, Luda and Nina, all single, all in their fifties and sixties, were enjoying a morning of sunshine and friendship, when suddenly some crazy people showed up to make things slightly out of the ordinary.
The table was cleared off faster than our sleep fogged brains could comprehend, covered in a clean table cloth, we were pushed into chairs, and a five course breakfast appeared. Eggs, bread, goose liver pate, homemade peroshky, homemade cherry and apple drink, milk straight from the cow, tea, coffee, fruit, and more magically appeared on the table.
Anna sat down next to Katie to supervise our breakfast eating. She kept pinching the arm of Katie and pinching her rather larger one for comparison and laughing hysterically at the difference, while urging Katie to eat more. Nate received the same treatment. After insisting that we could not possibly eat more, we were led into the garden by Tanya, who showed off nearly four acres of hand tilled vegetables and orchard.
Turning down a gracious offer of a place to stay, as it was only noon, but loaded down with fried egg sandwiches, cucumbers, cherries, and cherry drink, we continued on.
The landscape of the southern part of Ukraine can be summarized as up and down, up and down, up and down. Ten percent grades were not unusual, and road conditions prevented any enjoyable pedaling down hills.
Ah, road conditions. Rural Ukraine is almost entirely neglected in terms of infrastructure. Running water, as previously discussed, is unheard of. Roads that are paved one year are nearly washed away and reduced to ancient cobbles the next. Sometimes roads are a delightful combination of cobblestones, loose gravel, sand, potholes, and seemingly completely random chunks of pavement. More often than not, reasonably paved roads between towns inexplicably turn into wicked combinations of gravel and cobblestones in town. Getting her front wheel stuck on a cobble on an uphill, Katie gracefully flopped over onto the road on at least two occasions.
Although the road conditions were enough to make any reasonable person turn around and find a different route, the plethora of baby animals made up for all frustration, bruising, and angst caused by Lada swallowing potholes. Goslings, calves, ducklings, lambs, kids, piglets and chicks had the right of way in most towns and for the most part ran amuk. Sheep, goats, and cows are tethered outside of gates, alongside roads, in parks, and are left to graze for the entire day. In the evening, traffic jams are caused by women leading farm animals down the road. In many respects, this part of the country felt like being in a century long time warp.
Ducklings appreciate bad roads, as they make for good swimming and grazing
As a departure from domesticated flora and fauna, wild storks were nesting on any and every available surface. Clacking and croaking notified us of tiny storks, making their own awful squeaking noises.
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