Another beautiful day. We have signed on to see the catacombs of Odessa. I am a bit vague on all this. All of these underground places were created by people who were mining under their houses for limestone rather than quarrying it offsite. So they built their houses up on their excavations underground. This has created a warren of catacombs throughout Europe. This sounds totally mad to me. Nor do I understand the relationship between these mines and the phrase "underground" for "resistance," if there is any relationship at all. This place we visited today was a meticulous reconstruction. 47 people lived here during the German occupation and all of them were killed as a result of an informer. This is a lovely old nineteenth century town; staying in an underground tomb is a terrible waste of a day here.
It got worse. In a desperate effort to exorcise the experience we decided to walk around town freelance. After a nice start in the center of town we followed our map which turned out to be erroneous and slid slightly east, off the hill overlooking the harbor and ended up in the industrial area filled with old bolshevik symbols, old and angry bolshevik men and taxis who would not stop for us . The time for the ship's leaving was ticking down and I was seriously worried. I knew we were close but I had no idea how to get there. We were saved by a Ukrainian who used to deliver pizzas for Domino's in Charlottesville. He drove us directly to the ship--but would not have without everything in my wallet.
Life lessons: Never travel without a phone that works, never travel alone to an area where you do not know the language or the alphabet, avoid areas where you might depend upon the good-will of people with old political grudges towards some group you remotely resemble and always get the harbor-master's number when you leave a ship.
Back on board with the best glass of wine of the year.
It got worse. In a desperate effort to exorcise the experience we decided to walk around town freelance. After a nice start in the center of town we followed our map which turned out to be erroneous and slid slightly east, off the hill overlooking the harbor and ended up in the industrial area filled with old bolshevik symbols, old and angry bolshevik men and taxis who would not stop for us . The time for the ship's leaving was ticking down and I was seriously worried. I knew we were close but I had no idea how to get there. We were saved by a Ukrainian who used to deliver pizzas for Domino's in Charlottesville. He drove us directly to the ship--but would not have without everything in my wallet.
Life lessons: Never travel without a phone that works, never travel alone to an area where you do not know the language or the alphabet, avoid areas where you might depend upon the good-will of people with old political grudges towards some group you remotely resemble and always get the harbor-master's number when you leave a ship.
Back on board with the best glass of wine of the year.
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