My Near Aneurysm in Ukraine

Ukraine always brings money headaches for me, not in having too little but having my access suddenly choked off in the most malapropos moment. Longtime readers may recall my prior trip to Odessa two years ago, when my ATM card was gnawed up less than an hour before the helltrain through the ultrascary Transdniester Region of Moldova disembarked, leaving me nearly penniless for two souldraining days of border guards and wild dogs. Due to high incidences of fraud in Ukraine, many ATM cards won't even work here, being blocked by the issuing bank or credit union. Fortunately I had gotten prior consent from SESLOC, so I knew I didn't have to tote an overstuffed wallet, something unwise in this city of 1.2 million on the Black Sea. Odessa is always a hustler, sometimes a pickpocket.

After all the tricky places I've maneuvered thus far-- and for crisis' sake I escaped under cover of night from the clutches of Kyrgyzstan -- it seems incomprehensible that I should leave my VISA debit card in the machine at Borispol Airport in Kiev! The digital replay of me realizing this horrifying truth, hours later, would be, I'm sure, hilarious. Running around my hotel room, heart beating visibly out of my throat, looking looking looking over over over in the same three places for my card, my brainstem on autopilot. And in a final shot worthy of Sam Raimi, a camera telescopes through that day's path in ultrafast reverse, the Odessa airport, the scary Yak-20 flight, the customs line, zooming finally back in large magnification to my ATM card, sitting halfway out of the beeping machine.

Sadly, having a PhD does not vaccinate one from stupidity. And now my only artery to money had been cauterized.

Travelling abroad, especially in Eastern Europe, makes seemingly every task more difficult, as in cancelling my card before some Ruski bought a hulking fur chapeau on my dime. You can't just pick up the cell phone and call. First a Ukrainian sim card must be purchased somewhere, which takes longer than it should. Then go somewhere else to purchase credits for said card. Then find an internet cafe to look up SESLOC's number, dial it and have said units evaporate while waiting on hold. Repeat.

Finally, I was able to make the call and get my card cancelled, without any mischief being made! Fortunately I was also able to contact my parents via email, hurray twelve hour time difference!, and now have enough to get back to SLO next week thanks to them and the redheaded ogre at the Western Union office. Whew!

Here's my photo of the day, the famous Potemkin Stairs here in Odessa, site of a worker's uprising and subsequent massacre in 1905.