Katya and I were taking an overnight bus to Yalta, located on what was still at the time, the Ukrainian province of Crimea, located on the Black Sea (before Russia decided to take it back). I was looking forward to leaving the dirty, claustrophobic confines of industrial Dnipropetrovsk in eastern Ukraine. But little did I know that I was simply trading that in for the dirty, claustrophobic confines of Yalta.
Dnipropetrovsk’s bus terminal was a depressingly dingy building with a pervasive Soviet feel to it. After waiting far too long in a line not nearly long enough to warrant the wait, we were finally able to purchase our bus tickets from a less than enthusiastic and clearly bitter ticket agent, before setting off on our journey to what many considered to be the crown jewel of Ukraine – so much so, “Mother Russia” decided to recently re-claim it as hers.
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