Travelling in Ukraine... without internet and smartphones

When I was 21 I went to travel and live in Ukraine for some months during the summer. I knew nothing about the country, didn't speak the language, and had no idea what I was doing. I knew only one person there, someone I trusted and who helped me get settled, who got me in touch with other people. So I took a bus (36 hours one way) and I found myself in a different world.

And even though I'm not extremely old, that was a time when internet wasn't too big, and there were not so many fancy things like Google Maps and online dictionaries. No apps to translate things. No smartphones. Or maybe they were there, I didn't know about them. I did bring a simple digital camera, empty notebooks to write down my thoughts. (I wrote a lot of poetry during that time.) And of course I brought a book to learn Russian.

I spent most of my time in Dnipropetrovsk, which lies somewhat in the middle of Ukraine. And Ukraine is the country that lies in the middle of Europe, if you can believe Ukrainians. It was a big city I had never heard of, with about a million inhabitants. I met a lot of interesting people, and spent my time learning as much Russian as I could, so eventually I also had interesting conversations with people. About their view of things. About life. About the state of the world. It was a life changing experience, one that has definitely contributed to how I look at things. Stepping out of the bubble I'm used to, dealing with things I had never dealt with before, is something great. And to do that alone, on what I now think is a pretty young age, is something incredible.

I still travel to interesting countries, alone. But it wasn't like then, because now there are more tools to use. Back then, I trusted myself, my instincts. My world was smaller, things were slower, adventures were bigger. But I learned a lot, and maybe I saw much more because I was not studying the guidebook, or my phone to get directions. I just walked in circles, ever increasing circles.

It was pretty lonely. I didn't know many people, I didn't know what there was to do. And things were strange. I would walk around in the park, and sometimes be invited by other young people to come with them and drink. Sometimes I would join them, but I'd do everything wrong, it seemed. I didn't drink. I would sit at the corner of a table, which apparently meant I would never get married. And I didn't think that was a bad thing. There was sometimes someone who spoke some English, but often that turned out to be people that had nothing to say. It made me wonder about language. About the power of smiling, about gestures.

And just when I was taking a look at Google Maps, I was amazed that it only took me seconds to find the building where I spent those months, even though it's ten years ago, and I don't know the street name. I only remember how the streets go, where the parks are. And the shop next door is still selling weapons. A fact I find more troublesome now, than in those months I actually lived there.