I get up at 4.30 am to get ready to catch the 6.35 am train. Reg stays in bed as long as possible! The train is crowded, but luckily we have reserved seats. When the train gets going, the guard brings round tea, in a glass in a fancy chrome holder, with a delicately fashioned teaspoon inside. We're impressed. We haven't had breakfast, so eat a banana and a chocolate bar each.
The train journey passes uneventfully, though it's difficult to look out of the window from these particular seats, also the window is quite misted up. I do notice when I strain my head, lots of women working in fields, then forest scrub, some posh houses, and many houses and other buildings with corrugated irons roofs, some well-maintained, many delapidated. I see untarmaced roads in some areas - there's the impression of much poverty, and as before, pockets of wealth.
The train gets in to Kiev three quarters of an hour late. As we alight from the train a man on the platform approaches and asks us with some persistence if we want a taxi. We've been warned not to bite and to take a metered taxi - a similar thing happened to us when we arrived at Brussels. (We later learn that it's apparently impossible to get a metered taxi in Kiev), We decline, and as we leave the station another man approaches us and asks where we are going. The proper taxis appear to be across the road. Reg decides we should go with this driver as he seems cosha and knows where the hostel is. The man leads us to a battered Skoda and I am less than happy to get in this car. It has no rear seat belts. As Reg has made his decision I ask "How much?" The driver replies, the equivalent of £8, which isn't extortionate even if we're not going far (We later learn a reasonable charge would have been half that).
The man speaks a little English, and points out 1 or 2 landmarks as he drives like a maniac through the city of Kiev, which is completely snarled up with traffic. There are lots of Mercedes and Toyota 4x4's with blacked out windows. Our driver isn't fazed by any of them - after all, they are no doubt more concerned about damaging their vehicles than he is about his rusty Skoda. Our driver forces his way into a stream of cars 2 cars wide at one point, causing a black 4x4 to clip the side of another car in the ajacent stream of traffic. Our driver's car is undamaged so he keeps going, seemingly oblivious to the havoc he is causing. When we arrive at our destination he gives us a piece of paper with his mobile number on it, should we be in need of a taxi again(!!)
I'm suspicious as to whether this really is our destination, as there's no obvious sign indicating a hostel, only a few graffitied letters on a wall saying "One Step Hostel" with an arrow. We follow the graffitied arrows, and then ask someone who happens to be passing - yes, this is the hostel! It's on the 4th floor of a rather shabby building, but the hostel has a high rating on Hostelworld.com so we aren't too worried. We're relieved when a friendly voice answers the intercom, and soon we're in a very welcoming, brightly decorated hostel, and the English-speaking receptionist is making us feel at home. We have a lovely big room with a huge double bed (2 singles pushed together).
Natasha the receptionist will do all our washing for £8 which is great. We sleep for over an hour, then go out to draw out some cash from one of the numerous ATM's, as Natasha would prefer payment in cash for our stay. It's our experience that this is the payment preference of most hostels.
We call in at the Tourist Information Office and book a tour of the old town for 12 noon tomorrow. Then we go for a meal in a restaurant near the hostel. The place is done out in Ukrainian country style, with the waitresses in peasant costume with flowers in their hair, The meal is mediocre though and the giggly barn dance music would drive me potty if I worked there.
When we get back to the hostel, Natasha returns our washing beautifully clean and tumble dried. I knew I shouldn't have put in my merino wool jumpers though, as they've shrunk.
We make a couple of phone calls home, then Reg goes to bed while I finish writing this blog.
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