Кременчуг

Originally, my curiosity about Ukraine was piqued by the women there who emailed me. I am a skeptic. I am not one to travel all that distance driven by some whimsical expectation regarding a woman I correspond with. Consequently, I needed a better excuse than that. This is why I decided to make a motorcycle ride of it in an exotic place.

I don't know why I stopped in Кременчуг. (say: "Kremenchoog") I had an address. I guess I just wanted to prove I could find it. By then, I was sure nobody there wanted to see me. It's not that I bite, nor anything like that.

Besides, my relationship with a Russian woman in Киев was very real by then.

I was on a ride back to Киев from Симферополь in Крым. (Crimea) Кременчуг is along the way.

I had looked at Кременчуг using Google Earth. I thought I'd like to see the sculpture garden along the river.

I didn't even bother going through the door into the "ant nest." That's what I call these places. They are big concrete structures full of cells. Similar to the one I rent on Маяковского Prospect.

Also, they are similar to the "projects," a failed US social experiment. I grew up in one of those near NY City. I don't know if it has been razed yet, like all the rest of those ghettos.

But, they are still in vogue in Ukraine.

Out in the parking lot, I was delighted by the discovery of the hops growing wild all over the cage protecting the electrical transformers. Ukraine is definitely beer country. It is the biggest "bread basket" in Europe. I wonder what they do for water pure enough for beer and "wodka."

After Кременчуг I cruised through Черкассы. Черкассы was even less interesting than Кременчуг. So, I crossed the river and hurried on back to Киев.

I decided to bring flowers home to my girl in Киев. My choice was flowers tough enough to pack on a motorcycle.

Important words

Sitting across the table from her at the cafe, I said: "I already know the second most important word in any language."

"What's that?" She asked.

"Пиво," I said. To me, it was actually a little too early for beer, and a little too late for coffee. So, I ordered orange juice.

"What's the most important?" She asked.

"Love." I said: "I don't know that one."

"Любовь," She said.

"How does one say: 'I love you?'" I asked.

She said: "Я люблю тебе."

"Спасибо." I answered. I tried to repeat it. She said: "That's nice that you love yourself!"

I tried to correct it. She asked: "Oh? Do you make love with yourself, often?"

Русский язык is very difficult. I wonder if I'll ever be able to speak it.

The food she suggested was very good. It was very satisfying for a late brunch.

Then, I walked her to her bus stop.

Rolling Into Red Square...

...was absolutely sensational!






My bike fit through the vertical pipe traffic barricade. However, that seemed to agitate the police. I couldn't understand a word of what they were yelling. Having no idea what the Москва (Moscow) jail is like, I decided to move on. So, I parked down by the church.

To me, a successful invasion of Russia requires one to reach the Kremlin. So, I grabbed my camera and walked.

I was distracted by the crowd and the ruckus. My investigation brought me to the equivalent of our Marine marching band. These guys were spectacular! They were doing the goose step on the cobbles in formation. Some were on horseback with swords.

Russia will allow you to invade her for a price, if you don't come guns ablaze. She will not allow you to stay.

In the end I was conquered by a Russian woman.

Bikers everywhere are brothers

(and sisters)

I was riding solo, North from Крым, (Crimea) toward Кременчуг when I found myself in the city of Кривой Рог. It was getting late and I needed to find a hotel. Instead, I found my new friend, Виктор Бурчак.

Виктор would have none of helping me find a hotel. Instead, he provided me a bed in his flat. Through Виктор, I met many more of the bikers of Кривой Рог.

I was overwhelmed by the generous hospitality of these folks. They were as amazed by my arrival on a bike from Wyoming. We have no language in common, yet communicate just fine. WE ARE BIKERS!

It is difficult to tell at first glance that these are not American bikers.