I really only came to Ukraine for one reason: I wanted to see Chernobyl. However, I figured that since I was spending all this time and money getting here, I might as well see some sights, too.

Last night, Phil mentioned that he was interested in seeing a ballet today. I said that I’d join him and we got some other people to come as well, Johnathan and Lucy. Phil woke up well before I did and was gracious enough to get tickets for the both of us (which supprisingly only cost 60 UAH^[1]).

The ballet wasn’t until the evening, so I made by way north to the Chernobbyl Museum. It’s an errie combination of history and art that is well executed in both regards.

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I made my way back to the hostel, in time to put my feet up for a few. We had a couple of new hostel guests, Liz and Emily. Emily had just graduated from high school in Australia in December^[2] and was taking a gap year to travel. Liz is from Wisconsin and is spending over a month in Ukraine doing a study abroad program that involved visiting several communities affected by the Chernobyl incident.

I asked if either of them was interested in coming to the ballet with us, and Liz was.

Phil and I, dressed in our best (which didn’t really amount to much), and Liz, headed out to the ballet. We were pretty sure that Liz could still get a ticket, but not 100%. Since Phil and I already had our tickets, the more difficult task was going to be conveying fact that Liz needed a ticket next to us. The jury rigged solution was to write the section and seat number of the ticket that we wanted to buy, then show the ticket lady our tickets, and hope she pieced it all together.

It worked, more or less. The seat on either side of Phil and I was taken, however, the seat directly behind us was not; Liz got that one.

With only moments until the opening curtain, we made our way up, up, up and found our seats.

The ballet was “Bayaderka,” which is a Russian word for the French word “La Bayadère,” which means “The Temple Dancer,” in English. Although the it’s originally a Russian play (I think), so I don’t know why it has a French name as well.

I won’t bother recounting what actually happening as it’s really not that important. What is important is that we had a pretty good time. This was my first time at a professional ballet (I’ve seen my cousins perform before) and it was very impressive! Phil took some photos and has graciously allowed me to post them:

Click to embiggen.
Photos © 2009 Phil Bannon. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

After the ballet was over, we headed back to the hostel. I decided to call it an early night so I could get enough rest for my full day of excitement tomorrow.

1. US$8
2. southern-hemisphere schools still have the summer off

Today was a travel day. It was nice not having to travel at nice for once. It was a short bus ride to the airport, which is just a few kilometers outside of Tallinn’s Old Town. The airport was quiet, just like Old Town. There was no line at the security checkpoint, which was good because I had to go through twice.

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I normally don’t travel with my Nalgene. However, on this trip I have. I forgot that I had some water left in it and you’re not supposed to take any liquids through security^[1]. The security lady kindly asked me to empty it out, so I had to walk back to the check-in area to find a place where I could dispose of my ever so dangerous liquid (I opted for the curb outside).

I went back through security, putting my now-empy Nalgene through the x-ray machine. I hurried through the metal detector and it went of this time. I was slightly puzzled as to why the metal detector had gone off this time, and not the last time. I went through the exact same metal detector as I did last time, and I had the exact same items on my person. It took a few seconds before I figured it out; however, I shall leave it as an excersive to you to figure out why (bonus points offered for the proof).

The plane ride out to Latvia was non-eventful. The medium turbo-prop was not even half filled, which was meant that I got an entire row to myself. Once we landed, I passed through Latvian customs, getting a Latvian exit stamp (although not entrance stampt) on my visa^[2].

Boarding the 737 to Kiev was delayed for unknown reasons, and then delayed again as there was a minor scuffle between a passenger and crew member. There was a of talking, and then the passenger definitively slamed his carry-on bag to the aisle. I don’t have the remotest idea about what the issue was, but I think it had something to do with the guy’s seat…although I can’t imagine what the issue was. The captain was called out to talk with the passenger. The captain was calm and collected and spoke bits of English and Spanish before returning to a less familar language.

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The passenger was still refusing to cooperate though. The captain told the flight attendant to call the police, while the disgruntled passenger made his way to the very back of the airplane.

The police came, the passenger was escorted off, and we were on our way.

Going through Ukrainian customs is relatively easy, and far less stressful than Russian customs. Getting into Kiev and finding my hostel was a bit more tricky though. First, I had to find a bus to the central train station. A rather persistent taxi driver kept asking me if I wanted a ride, and I kept saying no…over and over. The bus ended up being a Grey Hound-style bus with no markings. I used my amazing powers of inference to determine that it may be going to the train station and later confirmed this, more or less, with the bus driver.

Unfortunately, the bus was making two stops this day (I actually suspect it makes two stops every day), and I got off the bus at the first stop. I went to go get my luggage, which was in the underbelly luggage compartment; but that involved basically stepping out into traffic. As soon as I tried to open the luggage compartment, the driver honked at me and explained that this wasn’t my stop…opps.

We get to the main train, my stop, and I go find the metro. It’s a short ride on the metro, which opperates the exact same way as the one in Moscow and St. Petersberg, although far less ornate on the inside.

I finally make it to the hostel around 5 or so, completely exhausted.

Some of the other guys in the hostel went out tonight. I joined them and actually had a pretty decent time. I didn’t get back until 4 in the morning.

1. We shall save discusioning the absurdity of this rule for another day
2. Estonia and Latvia are part of the Schengen Agreement, Ukraine is not

Today started off innocent enough. I got up, dragging my feet, but finally made it out the door. I grabbed some Indian food for lunch before heading to the Estonian State Maritime Museum.

I tried to fanagle my way in with my drivers license, but the ticket lady was keen on my ploy and made me pay full price, which was still only US$4.50.

The museum is located at the north end of Old Town in the 15th century cannon tower Paks Margareeta, literally Fat Margaret. The inside of the museum has several floors with a central stair case, making excellent usage of space. I thought it was quite cool. The top of the tower is also open to the public and provides a very nice view of Old Town and the surrounding area.

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I headed back down so I could walk to the pier to visit the second part of the museum. And this is where I discovered something rather interesting.

At the turnoff for the museum ships, I saw a rather cool looking gate. I went to go take a picture when I noticed that there were some signs pointing the way to a park. So I decided to go investigate.

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The area was very…industrial…in nature and I decided that it must be some sort of old military installation. As I wandered down the rabbit hole more, there was an old lady who started yelling at me.

She beckoned me over; and I obliged, not wanting to get into trouble. She was selling tickets for something, although I wasn’t exactly sure what for. But, it was only 30 kroons^[1], so I went for it.

She gestured to me what I’m going to assume is the international sign for hanging…as in executing someone by hanging. Great.

I walked in, alone. The ground floor was labeled “Prison Kitchen.” I stepped every so lightly and cautiously. There was minimal lighting, mostly from the barred windows. In places were there was insufficient light, I used the flash from camera; daintily taking a picture around the corner before reviewing the results on the tiny LCD screen.

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A rather rambunctious group of Russians teens came in behind me. It was good knowing that my screams for help would at least fall on someones ears, presumably.

I carefully stepped up to the second floor, and that’s where things began to get weirder. All all throughout the first floor, little bits of paper were glued to the wall with jokes. Some in English, others not. Then there was the doorway, stacked to the ceiling with pots. Another stacked to the ceiling with books. What the hell was going on?!

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I continued on. Rooms filled with beds…abandoned.

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At the end of the hall, a surgery room lined with stark white tiles. The surgery table is left abandoned in the middle with a surgical light overhead. A notebook is ready to tell the tales that the walls refuse to give up. However, it’s been encoded in a different language. A heart-lung machine sits ominously in the corner. I can only imagine the atrocities that could have gone on here.

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I go to the third floor, wondering if I’m pushing my luck too far.

The doors to many of the rooms are closed. Some with locks on them, others just refuse to open. This door has a port on it like you might find on a submarine. Who did they keep here?

Noises of someone coming up. It’s an Israeli woman who’s taking pictures for an art project. She’s decked out top to bottom in a red and black jump suit, carrying a large format camera on a tripod in one arm; a ring of keys in the next.

Single bed rooms; many with paint peeling.

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A plain room with a desk, a chair, and a couch. Perhaps for a psychiatrist?

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A communal bath and shower room.

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Another room with a metal bed attached to the floor. The smallest table I’ve ever seen sits across from it with three tiny seats.

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More artwork.

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I’ve reached the end of this part. I go back down the stairs and outside, absolutely thankful to breath the fresh again. Confident I’ve picked up some sort of horrible disease (although I was careful not to touch anything).

I have no idea exactly what this place was for, but I do know two things: it must have been horrible and there’s no way in hell I would ever want to be trapped here.

I go into another building, a sign outside proudly announces: Poomisruum…Hanging Room. This must have been what the old lady was talking about. I was quite sure how they managed to hang people in the room, although I imagine it had something to do with the floorboards being removed.

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Leaving the hanging room, I proceeded to the prison yard. Nothing terribly exciting. A stark concrete cell outside, completely fenced in. A bench in the middle. I wonder how often people got to use these.

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I left the prison area (I was mostly convinced that’s what it was at this point) and went to go find the boat museum. By time I got there, though, it was closing time. Oh well, the prison was much more interesting.

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I headed back towards the hostel, stopping at a grocery store to pick up some staples for dinner and breakfast the next morning.

As for the prison.

Well.

I had stumbled into what I later found out was Patarei Prison. It was built between 1829 and 1840 (yes, mid-19th century) as a military barracks. It was later converted for use a prison during the Soviet occupation for much of the 20th century. Essentially, Patarei was a KGB prison where they “held, tortured and killed political prisoners”^[2]

This makes some sense, as the KGB headquarters in Tallinn was only a short 20 minute walk away, perhaps only 5 by car.

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As for the mysterious artwork? There’s an explanation for that too. A joint Finish-Estonian project between the University of Art and Design Helsinki and the Estonian Academy of Arts. It runs through the end of August 2009 in case anyone else is interested.

I was also able to dig up some blog posts to help fill in the blanks; definitely worth a read:

• A traveler visits the prison on January 10, 2007: Patarei prison
• Another traveler visits on August 2, 2007: Locked Up in Estonia

1. US$2.67
2. http://journals.worldnomads.com/worker/post/8202.aspx

I spent about half of today retracing almost all of yesterdays steps. There were some great photos to be had, but I didn’t want to take any because the sun wasn’t out, the light was crappy, and it was raining.

It was definitely worth waiting, as I got some amazing pictures.

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I also went to the Estonian Museum of Occupations, which was open today. It was quite an amazing exhibit, although I felt like there was a lot of video content (which at least had English audio).

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To top of a great day of walking and photos, I went back to Hell Hunt and had a delicious dinner of pork chops and beer. I hung around for a while, talking with a couple guys who work for Skype who were returning home from a business trip to Asia and decided to make a stop over in Tallinn.

Sorry of the general lack of updates. There’s a backlog in the process where I merge the photos with the actual text of the blog. I blame the lack of a good Internet connection for this.

Stay tuned and something will eventually pop up here. Promise.

I am on vacation in Europe until August. Fear not, though, I’ll still be posting stuff. You can read about my travels around Europe right here on Andrew Ferguson dot NET. You can also view my photos related to the trip on flickr. Or just check out the most recent ones on an interactive map.

In other news, I will not be answering any programming questions because I don’t have my programming computer with me. Email will also be slower because, well, I’m on freaking vacation.

Also, I don’t have my cell phone with me. So don’t bother calling.

Note: This is a sticky post

I woke up early today, actually using my alarm clock for the first time on this entire trip, to meet a T, a good friend from work, and his wife D. T follows my blog and let me know a couple months ago that they would be on a Baltic Sea cruise about the time I would be in the Baltic states. It happened to work out that we could hang out for the day in Talllinn.

Unfortunately, today’s weather has been downright crappy: rainy and cold. But we made the most of it. D had Rick Steves’ Scandinavia book, so we did the walking tour that Rick details. Afterward, we grabbed a bite to eat before going to explore more of Tallinn.

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We first tried going to the Estonian Museum of Occupations, however it was closed (on a Monday). I looked through the ripped out pages of my Europe on a Shoestring book and thought that going to the Tallinna Linnamuuseum (Tallinn City Museum) would be the next best bet.

We started working our way up to the opposite end of town, weaving our way through the streets to find whatever might be off the beaten path.

The Tallinna Linnamuuseum open and was a pretty neat little museum of Tallinn’s history. It was getting close to 4, and T and D needed to leave to get back the boat. We said goodbye and parted ways.

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I went back to the hostel and took a nap before heading back out on my own. I was pretty hungry, but nothing looked terribly exciting. Because of the weather, no one was eating outside. I walked down through the town square, out of Old Town, and to the shopping center across the way. It was mostly a mix of western foods that I’ve been desperately trying to avoid, usually in vain. Nothing looked particularly appetizing, so I started walking back toward Old Town.

I eventually settled on McDonald’s, again. Although, this time I had a Chicken Bacon Onion (CBO). It seemed like a local offering, seeing as they didn’t have it either of the McDonald’s in St. Petersburg, and certainly not at any McDonald’s I’ve in the US.

It was decent, and certainly better than having a биг мак^[1] again.

1. Big Mac

Sleeping on the bus was proving to be hit and miss. I was definitely feeling much better than I was on the train, but the bumpy Russian roads were doing me no favors. I think I managed to fall asleep for about an hour before we arrived at Russian Passport Control. My final hurdle.

We got off the bus, gathering up all of our belongings and got in line to go through Passport Control. It wasn’t anything special, I just showed the lady my Russian Visa and Entry/Exit card. She typed stuff in, scanned my passport and visa, stamped my visa, and off I went. No questions, no searching, no fuss.

While we were passing through Passport Control, the bus was getting a thorough looking over by the Russian military. Everything checked out though and were were shortly on our way. We had a short trip through what I will call the DMZ before arriving at the Estonian Passport Control.

The Estonia Passport Control was much easier than the Russian. For one, we got to sit on the bus the entire time while military officer collected all of our passports. For another, there was a cute looking Estonian medic out my window. I’m just sorry I didn’t get her number.

Getting in to Estonia went without a hitch, for me at least. There were a couple of Chinese (I think) girls up front who had some issues and were escorted off the bus. Everything (apparently) got worked out as they were allowed back on a short time later. There was also a gentleman who had something from his suitcase confiscated, I think it may have been a sausage.

The rest of the ride was really smooth, much smoother than the Russian roads, and I ended up sleeping for most of the way into Tallinn.

Once I arrived at the bus station, I decided to take a taxi to my hostel — seeing as it was 6:30am, I wasn’t feeling in a position to navigate the bus system.

I got to my hostel, checked in and then crashed on the couch (again) as the bed wasn’t ready yet (again).

After I woke up from my nap, I dropped of my luggage and then was off to explore Tallinn. First though, I had to take care of my foot that was killing me and had developed quite a nasty blister whose fluid was turning a nice tinge of yellow. With my toe all bandaged up, I grabbed a huge pancake at Kompressor.

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A friend from work, T., is coming into town tomorrow, so I though it would be prudent to find out where to meet him and his wife. I found the location with ease and then wondered around a bit more.

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For dinner, I went to the Hell Hunt pub, which is just around the corner from the hostel. At the end of the meal, a couple girls sitting behind me began flicking pieces of paper at me in an, what I’m going to call juvenile, attempt to get my attention.

Olga and Anna were two sisters, separated by about 11 years. Despite the fact that they were both born in Estonia, they both had Russian passports (Anna, the youngest, was born only a couple years after Estonia gained its independence). We had a nice chat about what I was doing and what my thoughts were on various topics^[1].

We got into a conversation about English, including what the word “fuck” actually means^[2][3]

It was pushing 11:30pm and I had to wake up early. As best I could, I politely excused myself and headed home.

1. I try to avoid discussing politics
2. I swear I’m not making this up
3. Short aside: All foreign language instructors teach kids the swear words, it’s really the only thing we care about. Apparently, though, they don’t provide the etemology. See also: Usage of the world Fuck (NSFW, natch)

I had two goals for today: visit the communications museum and get out of Russia alive.

After packing up my stuff, I made my way, again, to the communications museum. It was right were it should have been, and this time it was open.

The exhibits were very modern and well done, a stark contrast to the exhibits in the Peter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography museum.

The museum covered various forms of communication from the post office through radio communcations to cellular and satellite. Although I was mostly interested in the latter, my favorite part was the working telephone switch board, including a pulse-dial and DTMF interchange. There was also a working manual switchboard, but being unable to read Russian, I wasn’t able to figure out what steps I needed to take to make it work.

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I headed back to the hostel and made sure I had everything packed before I went out for one lase bite to eat. I wanted to get some Russian cuisine, however I ended settling for McDonald’s again^[1]. I’m going to blame my McDonalds fixation on two things. First, I was really tired. Of navigating the Russian culture and just in general. I didn’t really want to put the effort in to attempting to communicate my needs/desires in a foreign language. Second, Russians, especially teens, are absolutely enamored with McDonald’s. You always have to wait in line. In any event, ordering in Russian is easy: биг мак^[2], кока-кола^[3], and Fries. I’m actually not sure what the Russian word for fries is, but they get the idea usually. Add in the appropriate hand gestures to indicate size and you got yourself a meal.

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Afterward, I headed for the bus station. Finding the station went without a hitch, solidifying my place as “Badass Map Reader”^[4].

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I placed my backpack underneath and climbed on board with my day back, hoping that I would get some sleep this time.

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1. Yes, again. I swear this only the second time I had McD’s this trip.
2. Which is literally pronounced: Big Mac
3. Again: Coca-Cola
4. seriously though, I’m amazing when it comes to reading maps in foreign places

I’ve been traveling for just about 10 days now; and it sort of feels like it. I’ve been nursing a couple of blisters, and I can’t seem to get enough sleep. I’ve also been fighting off some sort of cold for the last few days. Although I think yesterday was the turning to point to winning the war on terror my cold.

Last night, I did some investigating and plotted out what I wanted to do for these last couple of days. I made a list of the top three museums I wanted to visit:

1. Popov Communications Museum
2. Museum of Zoology
3. Museum of Railway Technology

After having missed the Cosmonauts Museum, I made it my first priority to find the Communications Museum. I headed north and to the location where I thought the museum should be.

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However, I couldn’t find it. I circled the block, thinking maybe the location on the map wasn’t right, but still couldn’t find it. I pulled on the door for what I though was museum, but it was locked.

While still searching for the museum, I came across the post office. Figuring this would be as good a time as any, I decided to post my cards. This was an adventure in and of itself. I surveyed the scene (I wish I could show you a picture, but they don’t allow photography and there was a security guard on duty who most likely would have hassled me). Standing before me were 30-some windows, most of them closed, a few of them open. There was different writing above many of them, corresponding, I presume, to different postal functions.

I do the sensible thing and walk up to the window with the shortest line. I show the lady behind the counter my three postcards and try my best to indicate that I need some stamps. She points across the room, and I (like a well trained monkey at this point) mimic her gesture, making sure I understand where she’s pointing.

So I walk across the rather large room to the other side and repeat the aforementioned conversation, the gentleman looks at my cards and then points me back across the room. It’s takes a moment to process this before I realize I’m stuck in what appears to be an infinite loop.

I then had a flashback to about nine years ago when I used to spend quite a few Sunday mornings hanging out in the YMM^[1] office at University Presbyterian Church:
One morning, we decided to play a little prank on our small group leader, Brandon Lewis, who also happened to be an intern. The layout of the room was such that the office space ran along the outside perimeter with a table and a bank of computers in the middle.

Brandon happened to have a cordless phone at his desk (the only person in the entire YMM office with one, I believe), which I took and hid above the lowered ceiling tiles in the middle of the room.

My thinking went that Brandon would hear his phone ringing and think it was on the other side of the room. He would walk over there and listen for it again, only to hear it coming from the other side of the room. He eventually figured out the phone was in the middle of the room.

Perhaps God was attempting to humor me. In the middle of the large room is an open topped shop. I walk in, show the lady my cards, and get my stamps.

I walked out of the post office and decided to give finding this museum one last shot. There’s an upscale hotel near by and I ask the security guard if he speaks English, he doesn’t but another guy does. I show him the address I have for museum, and he confirmed what the map already told me. So I go back around and scrutinized the doors one last time.

This time, I see the note:

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The note appears to convey information about the museum being closed for Russia Day on 11 June and 12 June.

At least I know where the museum is.

I decide that I should still go to at least one museum, so I head north again, across the Bol’shaya Neva river, to what I think is the Museum of Zoology, but is actually the Peter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography.

The line to get in is pretty long, stretching to the end of the block, and is made up of an unusually younger crowd. I figure that I’m here and might as well go in, so I jump in line.

Most of the museum was pretty bland with exhibits that I thought were pretty outdated. I was struggling to find why so many people wanted to get in. Then I found it, the First Natural Science Collections of the Kunstkamera. This room isn’t even on the same playing field as Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

After the museum, I strolled by the water front before making a dash to the Peter and Paul Fortress.

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Once I got to the fortress, I noticed a helicopter had landed. Rather curious as to what this bird was doing next to the fortress, I naturally went to investigate.

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As it turned out, Baltic Airlines was offering 15 minutes aerial tours of St. Petersburg by helicopter, a twin turbine Mil Mi-8 to be exact. For a mere 2000 rubles^[2], I too could enjoy the sights that millions of others had enjoyed before me, but in the air! How could resist? Honestly, it was a really tempting offer. For a helicopter ride, $65 wasn’t a lot of money (all things considered). However, in the end I decided not to do it. I didn’t really think seeing St. Petersburg by air would be that cool and it looked like all the window seats were taken. Besides, if I’m going to pay money, I at least want to be able to fly the thing.

I did decided to wait around for the helicopter to take off; and let me tell you something, I was nearly knocked off my feet! That thing creates one heck of a downwash.

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I wandered about fortress before exiting on the north side. I passed by the Museum of Artillery, Engineers and Signal Corps as it was closing before doing a loop around the Zoo (on the outside, not the inside).

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40.0 mm || 1/800 || f/4.5 || ISO200

65.0 mm || 1/200 || f/4.5 || ISO200

I had been walking for about eight hours at this point and my feet were about ready to kill me. My plan was to catch the metro at Gorkovskaya, however it turns out (after later research) that the station was closed.

18.0 mm || 1/250 || f/4.5 || ISO200

18.0 mm || 1/2000 || f/4.5 || ISO200

I ended up walking another 2 kilometers to the Sportivnaya metro station, and my feet did up killing me. I did manage to get home though, having romped over 16 kilometers through St. Petersburg today.

18.0 mm || 1/25 || f/3.5 || ISO1600

18.0 mm || 1/4 || f/4.5 || ISO200

18.0 mm || 1/25 || f/3.5 || ISO1600

1. Youth Mission and Ministry
2. $65 dollars