Travel in Odessa, Ukraine

 

The streets of Odessa. In the dying heat of summer, the air was dry yet heavy with the scent of the city.

"Are you going to Odessa? Quick, get on this bus - we're leaving soon!"

At the bus station in Chisinau, there was a bus marked 'Odessa,' and I was wandering around looking for a bus heading to Turkey. The bus driver seemed unaware that as a foreigner, I currently couldn't go there. Perhaps he knew but was just making a joke.

Moldova, which I had visited the previous year, was a country of autumn. The wind blowing from the distant plains that stretched beyond the city's outskirts would awaken the fragments of fallen leaves that had been sleeping on the worn roads, and cause the laundry hanging in vacant lots everywhere to ripple gently like waves.

The train station was red and oxidized like the fallen leaves there. From there, I saw trains heading to Odessa, which lay beyond the sun stretched across the endless plains. Although I couldn't go there, I could still sense the scent I had caught there in Tiraspol and Chisinau.

A woman on the tram in Odessa asked me, "Are you from Korea? I can tell."

It was a trip from a few years ago. Probably not quite 10 years ago.

The people there sometimes looked at me with guarded eyes, but I think that was just the typical cynicism of Ukrainians. They don't smile as often as Koreans do. But they were as warm as the weather there.

According to information I found, thanks to the beautiful Black Sea beaches, it was a city that millions of Russian tourists visited annually until the Ukrainian civil war began.

The wind from the Black Sea was very warm in summer, and the path leading to the beach was dazzling.

On the beach, a couple having their wedding was dancing, and people were enjoying a leisurely summer there, being kissed by the waves of the Black Sea.

"Take off your shirt, it's okay."

As I hesitated on the beach still wearing my shirt, a passing Ukrainian said to me.

All the men around me except for myself were swimming shirtless.

Even now, after all this time has passed, I still remember the tranquility of that place and the cheerful music celebrating the wedding party.

Just as vast as the wide sea there, the plains were also expansive and beautiful.

The blowing wind made the reeds ripple like waves, and goats poked their heads up between the reed beds, watching the passersby. And there were horses leisurely strolling across the plains.

A girl carrying a goose was walking home under the intense sunlight, with animals following behind her. I briefly made eye contact with her, but the sunlight was too dazzling for us to look at each other for long. Our gazes turned toward the paths we each needed to take.

The train station in Odessa, Ukraine.

The train was old but had quite a spacious interior. Perhaps my memory has been distorted.

The train ran across the endlessly stretched plains with a slight rumbling sound, heading toward the countryside villages of Odessa.

Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

The place where we got off was in the middle of a field where no station existed. People got off there and walked into the fields. After walking for a while, we could see a small village. We decided to stay there for a few days.

The railway between the endless plains, and the red, oxidized buildings that remained only as skeletons—buildings where people might have lived during the Soviet era—were enough to paint a picture of this place's past.

A cat I met in Odessa. In the very cold weather, the cat was quietly staring at the ground with one paw raised. This cat was still alive two years later.

The wind blowing from the Black Sea in winter was not as generous as the summer here. In winter, it was so incredibly cold that it felt even colder than the northern villages of Korea. 

The fierce wind defeated me despite wearing two layers of underwear, and we had to warm ourselves in a restaurant for quite a while.

It was here that I first realized other countries have tipping culture.

I thought that kind of thing only existed in America, but I was wrong... At first, I didn't understand what they were saying so I just left, but later when I asked my Ukrainian friend, he told me I should have given them a tip.

On my second visit later, I gave a tip to the staff member. The staff member I tipped was probably the same one who didn't receive a tip from me before. It had to be that way.

Photos of downtown Odessa city center

In the center of Odessa, there was also a bustling downtown area that was crowded with tourists at night. What I remember is a dancer at a club entrance dancing to entice tourists.

And... on the streets, there were young students selling watermelons. They were much cheaper than the prices in Korea and much more delicious. The taste of the plums and watermelons I ate there was so memorable that later I ate plums almost every day in Moldova. There are no plums like that in Korea...

At the shooting range there, there were many young students who looked like elementary school children, and some of them might be soldiers by now. At the time, I was really surprised that so many young children visited these shooting facilities, and I was also amazed by how skillfully they shot.

I had served for two years in Korea, but I had never fired an AK-type rifle, so I really wanted to try it here. The recoil wasn't as strong as I expected, but because people around me were shooting without the set commands and procedures like in the military, I couldn't adapt to it at first and I remember my heart was beating very fast.

Most of the photos on my old USB were damaged, so I couldn't find the winter pictures.

I want to tell you that the winter there was also truly beautiful.

I only hope that all the people living there now are happy.

Like the eternal flame that commemorates the veterans here, I end this writing with the hope that their happiness and prosperity will last forever.