Ivano-Frankivsk

Since the train to Ivano-Frankivsk is already delayed by a good quarter of an hour in Lviv, we won't reach Ivano on time either. During the wait at the train station, I can talk to an Indian who is studying medicine in Ukraine and offers to help me find accommodation in Ivano. On Thursday (June 21, 2018), the provincial capital welcomes us shortly after eleven in the dark. No sign of the Indian - he had to take a seat in another wagon and cannot be found when getting off. I could only find four hostels on the internet and after my experiences in Lviv, I am not very optimistic that I will find accommodation. However, surprisingly, I can find a room on my second attempt. So after a summer day, I enjoy a cool shower, use the fast WLAN to upload some impressions of the past days, and finally go to bed well after midnight.

Friday morning wakes me up with cool temperatures and rainy weather. First, I manage to convince the receptionist to accommodate me and Rango for another day, but then unfortunately her boss interferes. Dogs are not welcome in the hostel. So around noon, I pack up my things and go into the city to look for a new place to stay. Unfortunately, without success. After a coffee and a poppy seed strudel, I decide on the same day to head towards the Ukrainian Carpathians. So I spend the next few hours driving around Stanislav, before I make my way to the train station in the late afternoon. On the way there, I stock up on food for the next few days, with Rango's food being about twice as expensive as my own. At the train station, after initial seeming overwhelmedness of the ticket counter staff, I can buy tickets for Rango and me to Jasinya. We still have about two and a half hours before the train departs, which we spend mostly in the waiting area of the train station. The train conductor, in the assigned wagon, greets Rango and me rather unfriendly and annoyed. My lack of Ukrainian skills and / or Rango somehow doesn't suit him at all. So the Dicke also has to take a seat in a space between the wagons and spend the 3 hours to the mountains without me. I occasionally have a conversation with some young people who are interested in the unusual fellow passengers. Shortly before eleven, we reach the train station of the small mountain village, still in rainy weather. About 300 m away, a possible accommodation is marked on my map. There is no doorbell on site, the gate is closed, so I ask the gas station attendant next door for help. He makes a short phone call and asks me to follow him. In the neighboring farmstead, he wakes up the resident, who obviously doesn't want to help us. They recommend us to try our luck in the center, about 1.5 km away. After some back and forth, we finally end up at a night watchman's hut around twelve. With the help of my translator, we can have a little conversation and Aljoscha finally offers us a place in his humble abode.