Hotel Izumrud Uzhhorod
10 Malokamyana Boulevard Uzhhorod, Ukraine
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We head west, via Slovakia
... behind him to either side. At the base of the statue were numerous plastic flower wreaths, red, green, blue and white. Meanwhile, on our side of the road were two rusting tanks, mounted on pedestals. Taking the edge off this mysterious scene was a pile of trash in a collapsed rubbish bin near one of the tanks, and off to the side some shabby fenced-in buildings, guarded by a fierce German Shepherd. What was all this about? The only clue was a brown and white ...
We meet the Hasids of Uzhgorod for Sukkot
... mission of Hesed Shpira is to support the sparse Jewish population in Transcarpathia, especially the few remaining Holocaust survivors. They provide food and clothing, and educate children in things Jewish. They also help Diaspora Jews find information about their ancestors.
Eventually the quartet quieted down. Their leader, a Rabbi who had come to Uzhgorod from Jerusalem, asked me in Yiddish if I were Jewish. He also spoke Russian, so Mikhail was able ...
The police pay a visit to the guest house
... return from the doctor’s would be delayed.
At about 12.30 we heard that Boris had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor! We felt horrible to hear the news. And, of course, the excursion was canceled. We called Peter, the missionary who had invited us to the Georgian restaurant, and asked if he knew anyone who could translate for us. He said he’d work on it. We engaged in deep in thumb-twiddling in ...
We take a Sunday stroll and encounter a guard pig
... the countryside, Manfred reasonably elected to stable his car in the guest house parking lot. So no trips to nearby towns, or even back to Uzhgorod to see the sights. Suddenly we had a whole day on our hands for exploring the 'hood.
After lolling in the guest house for the morning we decided to take a stroll. We walked up the dirt road past modest houses, fields, and stands of oaks. Eventually we encountered a ...
We are welcomed to Ukraine with a police shakedown
... my puzzled American taste buds. Undoubtedly this was the first time I’ve had Cole slaw with coffee.
At breakfast we suddenly caught sound of an anomalous American voice, and we oriented to it like a dog to foreign footsteps. We introduced ourselves to Peter, a missionary from the US who we found lived in Uzhgorod and worked with the local Roma (Gypsy) community. He in turn introduced us to the two men he'd ...



