Another Country
The leaving of Kiev had two oddities although stupidity is, perhaps, a better word for at least one. The taxi driver did not believe that his right hand could function without his phone in it whether steering, changing gear or simply resting his hand on the front passenger seat, even while I paid him the phone never left his hand.
When you get to security at the airport you go through a door. You then disrobe taking out your computer, liquids, get your belt off and your shoes etc. The usual mindless pointless shite that is dreamt up by those with the lowest IQ i.e. those that work in "security". But In Kiev these morons plumbed new depths. You can only do it one at a time! So there is one idiot telling you to take off your belt, put liquids in a plastic bag etc., another sitting at the machine, a third and fourth (of different sexes) watching you through the mind-stripping device and a fifth to tell you that you have a tube of smarties in your bag and you should have shown them separately. You have to do the whole process before the next one can get past undoing his belt, taking off her shoes etc. The roller on exit from the X-ray machine is twice as long as the one at the input end and the output end has tables so you can recover your dignity or get strip searched as appropriate. Surely, surely even the morons who work in security can see that it would be more efficient to swap the roll in for the roll off. Just move the x-ray machine about a metre and you could more or less double the throughput at no extra cost.
Obviously not.
The country began badly.
I have about €160 in Ukranian whatever they are called. I tried exchanging them at a couple of places at the airport when I arrived at Bucharest; they wouldn't take them. One lady suggested “town”. Huh, I have tried four banks, one of which had zloty, forints and czech crowns on the board so they must take them. Oh no. What sort of country does not take the currency of an immediate neighbour? Israel, I know. So, if anybody is thinking of visiting Ukraine, a lovely country, I have some currency that I will sell at a discounted price!
There was a “tourist information” booth at the airport. This was circular and completely enclosed by plastic; I had to speak to a microphone. When I was teaching in Spain one of my students put it brilliantly to explain why nobody likes flying – it is because you are not treated like a passenger or, God help us, a paying customer, but as a security risk. Clearly the Roumanian government think the same – there were no brochures or handouts of any sort. When I asked about a map I was told I could buy one where they sold the bus tickets into town. Rubbish. “No maps”. I bought a bus ticket and got on the bus and put my ticket against the machine which duly beeped. Just as we got in to town an inspector got on and said that I hadn't registered my ticket. There are apparently both a green and a red light, I hadn't even looked. I showed him my receipt etc. No, I was fined 50 ron (10 quid). He gave me another card that he said I could use on any bus that day – as if I am going to get on another bus and have some other thieving bastard charge me 100 ron because that pass wasn't valid on his bus.
It was 6.30 on Saturday evening so all possible map shops were closed but wifi is universal in all bars and restaurants so my friendly waiter soon sorted me out and gave me simpler directions to get to my hotel than google. The hotel gave me a free map.
There are a lot of tourists here (I have heard English or, rather American, here a lot for the first time on the trip) and the place is quite well set up to take your money but that is no thanks to the government. The Minister of Tourism should be shot.
Well that was a bit of a gobsmacker.Sunday evening so I wandered into a church. This was rather different from Odessa – dark with lots of gold. Like a catholic church. There are few seats and only two being used. The other seven members of the congregation were on their knees – quite often with their faces on the carpet. The priest is not facing the congregation (and there was no bloody great cross to face either but there must have been something) singing away. Not full throated but gently and quite tunefully. The suckers (ooh, sorry, congregation) obviously know the procedure off by heart just like the priest because sometimes they did the sign of the cross (which happened about once a minute) before he did. I didn't notice whether they used two fingers or three; I should have done because the difference was vital in one of the great spats that Christians went through a few centuries ago that led to wars and all the usual religion based evils. I watched for fifteen minutes or so and left in amazement wondering how long the whole stupid performance went on for. All the evidence from school and university results suggest that women are more intelligent than men so why do they fall for this God drivel? There was only one man amongst the suckers and this about reflects the balance of people I know. I can only think of one male who might possibly at one time have been associated with the tenth century non-sensible out-dated concept of God but I can think of at least two women, both very intelligent and well educated, who I know well and who actually believe in the God delusion. It is a mystery.
My dad has been telling me to go for years.
When he retired he started going for bus trips. Not my idea of fun but when you are sixty and haven't pissed around the world like I had even thirty years ago what do you do? Go on bus trips. He kept on about two places. Istanbul, which I finally made it to a couple of years ago, and Bucharest. For many students of history Istanbul is obvious but why Bucharest? The Roman remains perhaps? The old city? The museums?
No. Ceausescu. Those of you who are unlucky enough to have had thirty plus years of life may remember Christmas Day 1989 where, on live TV, there was a sort of kangaroo court that condemned the last communist dictator. They took Nicolae and the missus out the back and shot them, although that bit wasn't shown on TV. This was rather different from the perspective a few years before when The West courted our Nicolae - state visit to the UK in 1978 when he had dinner with Queenie, talked to Uncle Jim etc. (He also went to The States to meet Jimmy et al.) What he did that attracted my dad's interest was build. A massive building that was for the dissemination of propoganda but is now used for Parliament (so no change there then) at the end of a three kilometre long boulevard. (I was actually prepared to pay to go in but you had to go with a tour group and the place was crawling with people - mainly yanks - so I didn't break the rule of spending money on anything other than, food, booze, maps, accommodation and travel.) This little avenue is about seventy metres wide of which only three lanes each way are for traffic, the rest are for walking, cycling and trees. The propaganda building and all the ones in the area are made of stone (or, maybe, stone clad) down to the majestic array (and, intermittently beyomd) of fountains about 700 metres down the avenue. I didn't count the fountains but 200 is probably a decent estimate.
This lot was all put up towards the end of his time in the late 80s but I can see why my dad was so impressed - so was I.
And some people would like his rule back. The hotel receptionist is one. About twenty-five, she disparages the disorder and incompetence since. So not just the old timers then.
Bucharest is hot - the receptionist had said 44 which I am sceptical of but certainly high thirties and dry - dessert dry or, even, desert dry so walking around you must burn off at least half a litre of sweat per hour so you are constantly thirsty - and you know what my favourite liquid is... Actually I have managed to restrain myself a bit with some water and fizz but you can only drink so much of those. The old town is just a collection of bars and restaurants and there are a few other impressive buildings but there isn't a great deal to commend Bucharest; I preferred Odessa and Kiev although that may be because they are a bit more difficult with a negligible number of English speaking tourists.
Needless to say when I got to the airport the Minister of Tourism had been at it again. I couldn't get on the plane because I hadn't used the Chishinau to Bucharest leg earlier this afternoon. Fortunately, when I got a bit higher up the chain of command the lady had more sense and just issued me with a boarding pass.
Trip summary Planned Actual
Countries visited 1 3
Cities visited 1 4
Kilometres roller-bladed 1,000 0
Museums visited 0 0
Churches visited 0 2!
Conversations not with waiters/
hotel receptionists 0 0 (Bart doesn't count)
I have read some good books (apart from an Ian Rankin and some science fiction short stories when it all got a bit too much - A Kindle is a wonderful thing in such circumstances.)
Brave New World (at last) by Aldous Huxley. Surprisingly still very interesting after 70 years.
Democracy Kills by Humphrey Hawksley. Not quite in accordance with my views (he thinks that it can work in some circumstances) but good to read a book along those lines.
Peoplequake by Fred Pearce. Forcasting a world-wide human population crash. A little surprising but obviously a good thing and easily read.
The Selfish Gene (at last) by Richard Dawkins. For an accademic Dawkins writes quite well for the common herd. (Incomplete as yet)
Why the West Rules - for Now by Ian Morris. No less a historian than Niall Ferguson says "The nearest thing to a unified theory of history we are ever likely to get." It is brilliant - the best read of the holiday. My copy will go to Stevo next after I have finished it but it is well worth reading if you have any interest in history.
I got on the plane OK so that is it.
I am going to the Le Mans Twenty-Four Hour Bike race next week so I might write if it is interesting enough. Otherwise probably nothing until Christmas/New Year because I lead such a boring life.
The leaving of Kiev had two oddities although stupidity is, perhaps, a better word for at least one. The taxi driver did not believe that his right hand could function without his phone in it whether steering, changing gear or simply resting his hand on the front passenger seat, even while I paid him the phone never left his hand.
When you get to security at the airport you go through a door. You then disrobe taking out your computer, liquids, get your belt off and your shoes etc. The usual mindless pointless shite that is dreamt up by those with the lowest IQ i.e. those that work in "security". But In Kiev these morons plumbed new depths. You can only do it one at a time! So there is one idiot telling you to take off your belt, put liquids in a plastic bag etc., another sitting at the machine, a third and fourth (of different sexes) watching you through the mind-stripping device and a fifth to tell you that you have a tube of smarties in your bag and you should have shown them separately. You have to do the whole process before the next one can get past undoing his belt, taking off her shoes etc. The roller on exit from the X-ray machine is twice as long as the one at the input end and the output end has tables so you can recover your dignity or get strip searched as appropriate. Surely, surely even the morons who work in security can see that it would be more efficient to swap the roll in for the roll off. Just move the x-ray machine about a metre and you could more or less double the throughput at no extra cost.
Obviously not.
The country began badly.
I have about €160 in Ukranian whatever they are called. I tried exchanging them at a couple of places at the airport when I arrived at Bucharest; they wouldn't take them. One lady suggested “town”. Huh, I have tried four banks, one of which had zloty, forints and czech crowns on the board so they must take them. Oh no. What sort of country does not take the currency of an immediate neighbour? Israel, I know. So, if anybody is thinking of visiting Ukraine, a lovely country, I have some currency that I will sell at a discounted price!
There was a “tourist information” booth at the airport. This was circular and completely enclosed by plastic; I had to speak to a microphone. When I was teaching in Spain one of my students put it brilliantly to explain why nobody likes flying – it is because you are not treated like a passenger or, God help us, a paying customer, but as a security risk. Clearly the Roumanian government think the same – there were no brochures or handouts of any sort. When I asked about a map I was told I could buy one where they sold the bus tickets into town. Rubbish. “No maps”. I bought a bus ticket and got on the bus and put my ticket against the machine which duly beeped. Just as we got in to town an inspector got on and said that I hadn't registered my ticket. There are apparently both a green and a red light, I hadn't even looked. I showed him my receipt etc. No, I was fined 50 ron (10 quid). He gave me another card that he said I could use on any bus that day – as if I am going to get on another bus and have some other thieving bastard charge me 100 ron because that pass wasn't valid on his bus.
It was 6.30 on Saturday evening so all possible map shops were closed but wifi is universal in all bars and restaurants so my friendly waiter soon sorted me out and gave me simpler directions to get to my hotel than google. The hotel gave me a free map.
There are a lot of tourists here (I have heard English or, rather American, here a lot for the first time on the trip) and the place is quite well set up to take your money but that is no thanks to the government. The Minister of Tourism should be shot.
Well that was a bit of a gobsmacker.Sunday evening so I wandered into a church. This was rather different from Odessa – dark with lots of gold. Like a catholic church. There are few seats and only two being used. The other seven members of the congregation were on their knees – quite often with their faces on the carpet. The priest is not facing the congregation (and there was no bloody great cross to face either but there must have been something) singing away. Not full throated but gently and quite tunefully. The suckers (ooh, sorry, congregation) obviously know the procedure off by heart just like the priest because sometimes they did the sign of the cross (which happened about once a minute) before he did. I didn't notice whether they used two fingers or three; I should have done because the difference was vital in one of the great spats that Christians went through a few centuries ago that led to wars and all the usual religion based evils. I watched for fifteen minutes or so and left in amazement wondering how long the whole stupid performance went on for. All the evidence from school and university results suggest that women are more intelligent than men so why do they fall for this God drivel? There was only one man amongst the suckers and this about reflects the balance of people I know. I can only think of one male who might possibly at one time have been associated with the tenth century non-sensible out-dated concept of God but I can think of at least two women, both very intelligent and well educated, who I know well and who actually believe in the God delusion. It is a mystery.
My dad has been telling me to go for years.
When he retired he started going for bus trips. Not my idea of fun but when you are sixty and haven't pissed around the world like I had even thirty years ago what do you do? Go on bus trips. He kept on about two places. Istanbul, which I finally made it to a couple of years ago, and Bucharest. For many students of history Istanbul is obvious but why Bucharest? The Roman remains perhaps? The old city? The museums?
No. Ceausescu. Those of you who are unlucky enough to have had thirty plus years of life may remember Christmas Day 1989 where, on live TV, there was a sort of kangaroo court that condemned the last communist dictator. They took Nicolae and the missus out the back and shot them, although that bit wasn't shown on TV. This was rather different from the perspective a few years before when The West courted our Nicolae - state visit to the UK in 1978 when he had dinner with Queenie, talked to Uncle Jim etc. (He also went to The States to meet Jimmy et al.) What he did that attracted my dad's interest was build. A massive building that was for the dissemination of propoganda but is now used for Parliament (so no change there then) at the end of a three kilometre long boulevard. (I was actually prepared to pay to go in but you had to go with a tour group and the place was crawling with people - mainly yanks - so I didn't break the rule of spending money on anything other than, food, booze, maps, accommodation and travel.) This little avenue is about seventy metres wide of which only three lanes each way are for traffic, the rest are for walking, cycling and trees. The propaganda building and all the ones in the area are made of stone (or, maybe, stone clad) down to the majestic array (and, intermittently beyomd) of fountains about 700 metres down the avenue. I didn't count the fountains but 200 is probably a decent estimate.
This lot was all put up towards the end of his time in the late 80s but I can see why my dad was so impressed - so was I.
And some people would like his rule back. The hotel receptionist is one. About twenty-five, she disparages the disorder and incompetence since. So not just the old timers then.
Bucharest is hot - the receptionist had said 44 which I am sceptical of but certainly high thirties and dry - dessert dry or, even, desert dry so walking around you must burn off at least half a litre of sweat per hour so you are constantly thirsty - and you know what my favourite liquid is... Actually I have managed to restrain myself a bit with some water and fizz but you can only drink so much of those. The old town is just a collection of bars and restaurants and there are a few other impressive buildings but there isn't a great deal to commend Bucharest; I preferred Odessa and Kiev although that may be because they are a bit more difficult with a negligible number of English speaking tourists.
Needless to say when I got to the airport the Minister of Tourism had been at it again. I couldn't get on the plane because I hadn't used the Chishinau to Bucharest leg earlier this afternoon. Fortunately, when I got a bit higher up the chain of command the lady had more sense and just issued me with a boarding pass.
Trip summary Planned Actual
Countries visited 1 3
Cities visited 1 4
Kilometres roller-bladed 1,000 0
Museums visited 0 0
Churches visited 0 2!
Conversations not with waiters/
hotel receptionists 0 0 (Bart doesn't count)
I have read some good books (apart from an Ian Rankin and some science fiction short stories when it all got a bit too much - A Kindle is a wonderful thing in such circumstances.)
Brave New World (at last) by Aldous Huxley. Surprisingly still very interesting after 70 years.
Democracy Kills by Humphrey Hawksley. Not quite in accordance with my views (he thinks that it can work in some circumstances) but good to read a book along those lines.
Peoplequake by Fred Pearce. Forcasting a world-wide human population crash. A little surprising but obviously a good thing and easily read.
The Selfish Gene (at last) by Richard Dawkins. For an accademic Dawkins writes quite well for the common herd. (Incomplete as yet)
Why the West Rules - for Now by Ian Morris. No less a historian than Niall Ferguson says "The nearest thing to a unified theory of history we are ever likely to get." It is brilliant - the best read of the holiday. My copy will go to Stevo next after I have finished it but it is well worth reading if you have any interest in history.
I got on the plane OK so that is it.
I am going to the Le Mans Twenty-Four Hour Bike race next week so I might write if it is interesting enough. Otherwise probably nothing until Christmas/New Year because I lead such a boring life.
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