Amsterdam, july 21, 2007

The luggage has been checked in, the tickets inspected, and together with my fellow travelers René, Laura and Jeroen, I'm walking towards our gate at Schiphol airport. It will be my first flight ever, and I am nervous. When I look out of the window I can see huge planes taxi on the runway. The airport is crowded with planes, as soon as one plane is out of sight, the next one allready appears. Our flight will take us to Kyiv, Ukraine.

All preparations have been made. The Ukrainian currency is Hryvnia's, but Hryvnia's are not allowed to leave the country. On the internet it says you can use dollars allmost everywhere in the city, so I made sure I have I pile of dollars in my wallet. From Kyiv we will proceed our journey to Chernobyl. The area surrounding the Chernobyl power plant has been restricted to citizens ever since the accident. You need special permission from the Ukrainian government before you can enter. It wasn't really hard to get this permission though. The travel agency arranged it for us. The geigercounter (a device to measure radiationlevels) on the other hand, was a lot harder to get. Before I finally had one I made lots of phonecalls. I realised soon that buying one wasn't an option. A decent geigercounter can cost up to a 1300 dollars. A secondhand counter wasn't really an option too. There are a lot of geigercounters for sale on the internet, but all of them are devices from which the owner doesn't know how they work, and if they even work at all. Finally I turned to the university of Wageningen, where I was allowed to hire a counter for a low allowence. So now all the arrangements are made, we can enter the area safely and well prepared.

Kyiv Airport

Later on, when we are in the plane, I feel the wheels coming off of the runway. I have a weird sensation in my stomach and I feel a lump rise in my throat. I know the odds of a planecrash are smaller then the odds of having a car accident. But I have seen every episode of "Air crash investigation", and I am well aware of everything that can go wrong with an airplane. When I see a cold airflow appear on top of the wing, I think the engine is losing fuel. I allmost start to panic, but René assures me nothing is wrong. He knows exactely what is going on, he has nearly flew around the entire world. By the time breakfast is served I've calmed down. And I have to admit I'm enjoying the view. Then, after two and a half hour we can see the ground again, and before I know it we have been landed on Kyiv Airport.

Our first impression of Kyiv is a little weary. The arrival terminal looks greyish and bare, and the attendants who check our passports aren't very friendly. When I want to use the toilet I find a half-smoked joint floating in the bowl. Appearently they smoke weed in Kyiv too... After a thorough investigation of our passports we can finally pick up our luggage. We take our suitcases to the arrival hall, and meet the driver who will take us to our hotel.

This man gives us a warm welcome and even brought a bag of Ukrainian fruit for us. It looks like a combination of apple and pear, and it smells delicious. The man introduces himself as "George", though it is probably spelled different, and takes over our luggage. We follow him to his car, a nice black mercedes van that even has leather seats. He keeps apolegizing for his English beeing so bad, but we can understand him very well. Later on he tells me about his family. He has four childeren, the eldest one studies at the university, and he works 14 to 18 hours a day to provide for them. Back in the communistic days he had a well payed job with the government, but after the demise of the Sowjet Union he was out of work. This job is acctually below his rank, but we can sense he tries to make the best out of it.

After we leave the airport we drive on a highway with trees and meadows on both sides. On our left side we pass a little village, with small but cosy looking houses. Then we enter Kyiv, and suddenly the traffic changes into chaos. The roads are jamming and everywhere we hear people honking their horns. There's two kinds of cars in the city, either brand new mercedes's, BMW's and toyota's, or very old lada's. Later on we discover that the cars on the roads give a perfect picture of life in Kyiv. A split between poor and wealthy, old and new, Russia and Europe. Communism has been gone for allmost 20 years, but still it is visible everywhere. You can see it in the old appartementbuildings, the sportcomplexes which are maintained way better then most homes, and you can see it in the people who remember life in the Sowjet Union. Ukraine is a communistic nor a kapitalistic country. Old woman begging on the streets are a silent witness of the voight the country is in.

While we're passing by one deteriorating appartementbuilding after the other, George tells us our hotel doesn't ly in one of the best neighbourhoods. For the first time during our trip I start wondering if was a good decision to come here. But when we get to the hotel it doesn't seem that bad at all. Hotel Spartak is a cosy and clean hotel. The beds are great to ly on and every room has it's own bathroom with tub! The staff of the hotel gives us a warm welcome and shows us our rooms. The only bad thing I can think of are the ugly green walls. But I think I can live with that. When we decide to visit the old centre of the city the first problem appears. The information on the internet that said we could use dollars almost everywhere doesn't seem true. We can exchange the dollars for Hryvnia's, but we can only do that downtown. And to get there we have to use the bus where we can only pay with Hryvnia's. Luckily we can exchange one dollar bill in the hotel. The next communicationproblem arises when we ask at what time the busses leave. They look at us with a face that says they don't understand. When we arive at the busstop we find out why. In kyiv there is no timetable for the busses, they just come and go one after the other. It only costs 5 dollarcents to take a busride downtown. The busses are filled with people, it is terribly hot inside and the ride is very very bumpy. It is hard to keep yourself from losing your balance, especially when you don't have a seat and have to hold on to the stanchions to keep yourself from falling.

Hotel Spartak

After a 15 minute drive we arrive in the old centre. The centre is totally different from the neighbourhoods we have seen untill now. Everything is big and luxourious. The big square in the centre, the independence square, is filled with fountains. There is a huge televisionscreen on a hill that shows commercials, but is also used to broadcast soccermatches. Also the pavements are a relief. You can by half a gallon of beer for only 1,50 dollar and a package of sigarettes for less then 1 dollar! (In the Netherlands you pay 3 dollars for 33 ml beer and 6 dollars for a package marlboro.) The sun is shining, the temperature is high, but it is not as humid as it can be in the Netherlands. All four of us are impressed by this beautiful side of the city, with her golden domes and fountains.

Als we 's avonds weer in het hotel terugkomen praten we met Alex, die zo'n 240 uur per maand in hotel Spartak werkt. Alex is van onze leeftijd en spreekt een aardig woordje Engels. Dat is erg prettig, want met het Engels van de Oekrainers is het niet goed gesteld. Alex is gek op auto's en verzamelt hier filmpjes van op zijn mobiele telefoon. Weer zo'n tegenstelling. Hij verdient zo'n 200 euro per maand en woont daarvan in een flat bij het hotel in de buurt, waar de huur 50 euro per maand van bedraagt. De flats zien er verschrikkelijk verouderd uit, de verf is afgebladderd en delen van de muren laten los. In de kleine portiekjes is geen verlichting en ook ontbreekt er de lift. Tussen de flats liggen niet eens verharde wegen, alleen zandpaden. Toch heeft iedere jonge man of vrouw hier de nieuwste mobile telefoons. Alex is leuk en vrolijk en ook niet bepaald lelijk om te zien. Hij maakt dat we ons allemaal thuisvoelen in het hotel.

Als Alex hoort dat we de volgende dag Tsjernobyl zullen bezoeken, verklaart hij ons voor gek. Maar hij is wel nieuwsgierig. Later stelt hij ons voor aan Sacha, mededirecteur van het hotel. Sacha heeft nog gediend in Afganistan, samen met zijn broer. Hij is vooral gek op wodka en leert ons het gebaar dat men daar gebruikt om 'drinken' aan te geven. Hij verteld nog veel meer, maar het is niet allemaal even makkelijk te volgen. Alex doet zijn best om alles te vertalen, maar op sommige gedeeltes laat ook zijn Engels hem in de steek. Ik besluit dat het het beste is als ik Oekraïens ga leren, zodat ik tijdens een volgend bezoek in ieder geval versta waar de gesprekken over gaan.