A Letter to My Mother That Contains Relevant General Information About Where My Head is At Right Now, But That Omits the Stuff About the Debit Card...

...Because That Would Stress Out My Mom to No End and I Want to Spare Her That

From Kiev, Ukraine

Hi, Mom. So I am finally at the point where I can begin to relax a little bit. The jet lag is not entirely cured, but I'm on a fairly normal schedule, rising about 8 AM each morning and going to sleep by 11 or midnight each night. I still tend to wake up at 2 AM and lie there in the dark for a while, unable to get back to sleep for a few hours. But I'm getting close to solving this problem.

Life at the hostel has fallen into a routine. There is a cheerful camaraderie here, and somehow, despite a full house in recent days, there is no problem getting a shower, nor is there ever a line to the bathroom.

The first few days here, when I was tired and stressed, made for a city of danger and scowls. Now that I am finally decently rested and know of a few nice places to hang out I can finally sit back and enjoy the warmer faces of people engaged in cheerful conversation in the coffee houses and pubs around town. Heard some great live jazz last night, and today I am in a wonderful cellar pub scored by, well, more jazz, with free wi-fi. If you were on Skype we could video chat right now.

Been keeping people informed via a blog and my growing stream of web photos (if you go to the link I sent earlier you will see that it is updated each day with new images). It's interesting to post vacation photos as you go, versus the old tradition of inviting everyone to a slide show a few days after you get back.

I have learned several valuable skills already, including what to buy at the supermarket and how to tie a scarf in the proper Ukrainian way. My developing skills of argumentation and debate when dealing with Ukrainian bureaucracy should also serve me in good stead when I return. I am 38, but being in a tougher world like the one in Kiev makes me feel I have lived naively, so it's better late than never to sharpen the skills.

Perhaps tomorrow I will finally get to the embassy, now that the rush of the first few days is subsiding and a routine is beginning to emerge...

I have already made some good friends at the hostel, including an especially wise for her years young American woman who is married to a Russian man. Only 21, she has acquired more life experience already than I probably ever will. She has become everybody's mother in the hostel, frequently insisting on cooking traditional Russian meals for us because she says the ingredients would spoil before she used them otherwise.

Have been hanging out with a writer who has been published in some notable places; we have been chatting about the election from time to time as we keep running into each other at the same dives. Of course, I have made my own observations as well, though I have always been more interested in the pop cultural spectacle surrounding such events, filtering them more as an outsider; his Russian background allows him to penetrate more deeply, though differently. I think we're a Venn diagram, and that makes for good conversations since we both surprise each other with our perspectives. Anyway, I'm not the only American who came here with the idea of writing about it.

And I met a nice young Romanian woman on the plane flight over the Atlantic; we plan to meet in Bucharest soon.

In short, I have done more living in the past week than in the last year combined. I guess that's what I came here to do, and now it's happening. It's been a stressful, but also wonderful week. And really, it's not even that cold.

Cheers!

Andrew

My First Major Problem in Kiev

On my first Saturday night in Kiev my debit card disappeared. My partners in crime for that evening's adventuring and I felt it was likely that the card had been sucked up by the ATM machine I had visited at the beginning of the evening. But I could not be certain because I did not recall losing it in there. (For the record, I was stone-cold sober.)

In Ukraine, Bank of America can't help you. I remember TV ads telling stories of vacationers who lose their card, but happily a replacement card arrives right away and the vacationing couple party on. The reality is a lot uglier, and over a week after I lost my card I still don't have a replacement. Consider that Bank of America claims that a replacement card can be sent between 4 and 16 days. That's not a practical range.

How do you get cash without your debit card? Your checkbook will be of no use. When I went through the process of using Western Union I was refused at the end. Lauren suspects that Ukraine is probably a "blacklisted" country for money wire transfers from the U.S. due to fraud problems in Ukraine. So, I could not even send money from my credit card to myself in Ukraine via Western Union.

Another credit card could work in an ATM, but you need the pin number for the other card, and I have no idea what my "regular" credit card's pin number is. If you call Bank of America in order to get that information they will tell you they don't have it ("even we can't see your pin--for security reasons"). The pin cannot be emailed, nor is it retrievable via your own personal Bank of America page. The only way to get your pin is to have it mailed to you. And I'm in Ukraine with no fixed address.

One Bank of America person I spoke with told me I could call a certain number and reset my pin without knowing my previous pin. She tried connecting me to that phone number, and then got back to me telling me that the number was out of service. Even she was puzzled by that. She gave the number to me to call myself and I called it several times, always getting that same out of service message. Another dead end.

Bank of America debit card services are there for you, except on Sunday, and also on Monday when it is a holiday, which it is today. Emergency card services are there 24/7, but all they're going to be able to do is cancel the card, which is not in your interest when you think the card is in a Ukrainian ATM and you hope to continue to use it.

The Art of Haggling with a Ukrainian Bank That May or May Not Have Your Debit Card

On Monday morning, just as the bank opened, Natasha, who works at the hostel, and I went to the bank. Natasha did all the talking, and I passively watched. We were told that my bank needed to send a physical letter to them proving my identity and ownership of that card. Ridiculous as that was, that just seemed to be it, and so we left with a Ukrainian-language form I needed to fill out.

Lauren, who is made of tougher stuff, immediately said this wasn't right, and that I needed to fight more. So she and I went back to the bank twenty minutes later, demanded to speak to somebody who knew English, and went to work.

The downstairs of the Piraeus bank is staffed exclusively by beautiful, thin, young women. Only one of them, Natalya, speaks English decently.

Natalya explained that to return a card my bank would have to write them a letter which included my name, my passport number, the card number, and was signed. In addition to an electronic version a physical version would also have to be mailed to the bank.

So we argued a lot about that, and tried to explain that in America no bank has our passport number, so there's no way my bank could include that in a letter. But more importantly, I was still not 100% sure that they even had my debit card. You would think a simple question would get a simple answer, but here's how the conversation went:

Do you have my card?

"Fill out this form," Natalya replied.

But do you even have my card? I don't want to fill out a form if I don't even know if you have my card.

"On this line, put your name and surname."

And my card? Do you have it?

"Your passport number here, please."

And so on.

Lauren then told her that if they did not have my card we needed to know that, because I'd definitely want to cancel it, then. She concluded this with:

So. Do. You. Have. The. Card?

"Yes," Natalya relented.

And this was sort of a relief; now I knew the card was not lying on a street somewhere in Kiev. On the other hand, Natalya still insisted that we get a letter from my bank proving I am the owner of the card.

Consider this: my debit card is my property from my bank. It was lost in some other bank's ATM. The other bank decides to take my card away from me and refuses to give it back to me when I ask for it. I have my passport, social security card--every single means of proving identification known to (an American) man, but they still won't give it back. How is this not outright thievery?

So then, again at Lauren's encouragement, I decided I needed to go head-to-head with the Branch Manager. This has resulted in two more appearances at the bank today, both times only to find the Branch Manager was not in. You can imagine how thrilled the young women on the first floor of the Piraeus Bank were when I made my fourth appearance today.

I try again tomorrow.

Jazz at Art Club 44

A fun night at Kiev's legendary live music venue. Two bands played. Their drummers "dueled" at the beginning, then delivered some impressive solos. After that they were joined by other instruments, first by a jazz-funk instrumental duo (with a lightning-fast bassist), followed by a smooth instrumental jazz ensemble featuring both drummers, which proved surprisingly fun after three half liters of Stella. Everything was indeed...most excellent.

Election Day in Kiev

From Kiev, Ukraine

It's a lazy Sunday at the hostel. My ATM card is AWOL, but it is almost certainly in the Piraeus Bank ATM machine. The machine has been out of order ever since we went back to it looking for the card last night, suggesting that the machine's failure to regurgitate the card was connected to its downfall.

Since banks are closed on Sunday, there is nothing I can do until Monday, so I may as well hunker down today and relax.

I woke up early due to worry about the debit card. Things always seem worse at night than they do in the light of day; I feel pretty confident about things, now. Anyway, I got up at the crack of dawn, showered to wash away some of the smoke from last night, and then ate an apple. I boiled water because the tap water in Ukraine is not safe to drink. I then filled my water bottle with the boiled water and refrigerated it for later. I won't be able to buy bottled water until money situation is straightened out tomorrow, so this will do.

Lauren, snorer Piet ;-) and I went out to a great cellar pub last night and had a terrific discussion about politics. Hip student types occupied most of the tables and the air was thick with smoke. Smoky air is a novelty to me now, and even though I am not a smoker myself it brings back fond memories of venues I frequented in years past before smoking bans went into wide effect. Indeed, waking up to the smell of my smoky clothes and hair was actually a tiny pleasure.

We were surprised by the appearance of a former hostel-mate, Keith, who is a writer of note documenting aspects of the election. He had ditched the hostel for an apartment. He may have been playing, but he made a daring prediction that Yanukovich will win the whole election today--no runoff. (Most expect a runoff.)

Piet, Lauren, and I are all lying in our bunk beds staring at our laptops. Weather outside is exactly the same as it was the last few days: white skies with no trace of blue anywhere, specks of snow falling like dandruff, and cold.

The Finns invade today. There will be a large group coming in that will occupy every last available bed.

CORRECTION (19 January): The Finns turned out to be Swedes.

Breaking News

Debit card missing. My only cash line. Probably in ATM at bank, but banks probably closed tomorrow. Film at 11.

UPDATE: My finances are good, and there simply have to be other ways to access my account. So I am feeling decent. "There are seven ways to solve every problem."

Anti-Snoring Machine

From Kiev, Ukraine

When I got to the hostel I found I had five roommates. I was informed right away by Lauren, one of the backpackers here, that at least two of them were snorers. This was exactly the sort of situation I feared would happen when opting to bunk in a room full of people.

And the first night was terrible. Even though I wore both earplugs and noise-reduction headphones, the snoring cut right through.

This is when I switched into "Survivor" mode. At 3 AM I removed my earplugs and headphones. I then listened closely to determine who exactly was snoring around me.

The next morning I said to Lauren, "You and I have something very special in common. Neither of us snore. How about we form an alliance? Perhaps we can move to a double room someplace else in the hostel."

Lauren agreed to this, so we then asked the manager if we could move. He agreed to help us out by moving us upstairs. But then we learned that one of the employees in the hostel WHO SLEEPS IN ANOTHER ROOM had been awakened by the snoring, and she went upstairs to escape it only to find that it was just as loud up there!

So.

I switched to plan B. Plan B was to build an Anti-Snoring Machine. Not a machine that would stop a snorer from snoring, but a machine to prevent me from hearing snoring. Here is what I did:

1) I went to http://whitenoisemp3s.com/free-white-noise and downloaded the one hour sample of white noise on the top.

2) I dropped the mp3 into Sony SoundForge.

3) I deleted the fade-in and fade-out of the 1 hour sample.

4) I copied and pasted the file several times in order to stretch it out to 8 hours, checking the transition the 1st time to be sure it resulted in steady, unbroken sound.

5) I do not know the maximum length of a music file for an iPod (I don't have an iPod). But 8 consecutive hours was too long to fit on my personal digital recorder/player. So, I would have to play it from my laptop.

7) The resultant file played smoothly in iTunes.

8) I set the computer up beside my bed, elevated it with two books, spread apart in order to better let the battery breathe, and then draped a shirt over the screen in order not to disturb others if I needed to wake up and make volume adjustments throughout the night.

It was a success. Our bunkmate snored last night, but the white noise, in combination with my earplugs, completely eliminated the sound. I slept very well. In fact, I had to be shaken awake at a quarter to ten!

The one disadvantage is that clunky headphones are uncomfortable to wear when sleeping. But this problem was a delight to have compared to the annoyance of listening to snoring all night.

By the way, Piet, who is the snorer in question, is a great guy.

Kiev in January

From Kiev, Ukraine

Everybody in Kiev is playing winter sports in order to get from point A to point B. The city cannot afford to keep clearing the many streets and sidewalks of ice and snow, so a dirty gray crust of ice forms everywhere, presenting a walking challenge for all. Some of the hills around the city, which are topped by picturesque churches that beckon both tourists and the faithful, are especially steep, presenting a sense of danger as one descends.

One person staying at the hostel, Lauren, who lives in Russia with her husband, is here in Kiev as she waits for a new 3-month visa to be approved so that she can continue working in Moscow. She has proven an excellent guide. She showed me where to buy groceries, SIM cards, and jeans. She has also offered abundant good advice. She is only 23, but possesses the worldliness of someone in her thirties. She also knows passable Russian, as a result of being married to a Russian man. So she is a good friend to have in this city.

For a hundred dollars I got a great pair of jeans and three sweaters. Oddly enough, Lauren has never found long underwear for sale in Ukraine or in Russia, so the four pairs I brought along are now an especially precious comfort to have.

We also visited the Chernobyl Museum, which provided a fantastic overview of that tragedy, especially in tandem with Lauren's own knowledge of the event (again, very useful, considering that the placards are all in Russian or Ukrainian, none in English).

Some Random Observations

Beards are very rare here, so despite the comfort they provide in these cold temperatures I am ditching my effort to grow one in order to blend in a bit better.

If 3/4ths of the city cannot change them and the remaining 1/4th complains when they do, the ATMs in such a city really shouldn't dispense huge bills. A city like Kiev, for example.

CORRECTION (19 January): Lauren lied about her age; she is in fact 21. :-))