Group:
The sound of repetitive beeping slightly echoed against the walls of the small room crammed with bunk beds, backpacks, and 6 sleeping women. They started to stir. As each made the decision the adventure ahead was worth waking for, the clothes and bags prepared the evening before were pulled on and slung over shoulders. They shuffled out the door and into the small white car of their host’s
The train car was cold and empty as four drowsy women boarded and settled into the wooden bench seats. The temperature in the car chilled their bones and they tried to sleep against one another as they train started to chug forward. It rumbled as it pushed away from the station.
Hannah:
I tried to rest my head against the chilled windowpane of the cart, and kept my eyes connected to the web of color blending behind the distant mountains. I placed my feet on the seat in front of me with a half hearted wish that the cart wouldn’t fill as we approached each stop.
The fiery red clouds poked out from behind the peaks and coincided with the single heating element that pulled the cold from the right side of my body. The train car continued to rumble with a low jingle, the weight of the train guided by the strips of metal and planks of wood.
We teetered side to side and the fog that hung in the bushes was illuminated as the sun itself made an appearance. After it broke through, the blended hues softened against its light, and the blue in the atmosphere still clung to the moon that seemed to be watching its partner rise before departing.
Group:
With the start and stop of the train, the seats filled and the temperature rose. Each of the women stirred and shifted in an effort to keep their legs from falling asleep against the hard surface. The noise grew and the bustle of the train grew anxious as it pulled into the ending station. The women gathered their belongings and shuffled into the high ceiling corridor as people moved back and forth. They wove their way through the crowd and entered into the warm sunlight on a mission to find the next leg of their journey.
Meagan:
I charged forward with the intent of getting on a bus as quickly as possible. The sun had warmed the air and my eyes searched for the busses my host had clearly mentioned. Vans and people were puzzled together among the larger vehicles scarcely gracing the lot; each had a city name placed in the window. One of those had to be headed to Rivné. I glanced around for the Ukrainian spelling of our destination and briefly made sure the girls were still following behind me, their bags and coats swayed against their hips.
“English? No? Rihvneh? Reevneh? Rehvnuh? Reevnah? No?” The stout woman stared at me with a concerned and quizzical glare. I tried one more time.
“Rivné?” I said half-hearted, hoping for any kind of lead.
“OH! Rivné!” her eyes lightened as she scrambled for a scrap piece of paper, scratched some numbers, handed it through the desk window, and pointed us onward. Feeling like I had succeeded we stared at the sheet that we discovered could mean anything. I approached to ask again, and I felt my eyes darken with confusion as she continued to point us toward an indiscriminate location.
With lack of sleep and no real sense of a plan we started to wander.
Group:
“Does this go to Rivné?” They asked as they huffed into the little bus station after being prodded by the elbows of Ukrainian grandmothers with scarves tied under their chins on the pubic transport. The driver standing in front of the bus squinted his eyes at them as he puffed on the cigarette dangling between his fingers. With a swift gesture of his head he assured them this was the one and told them his price. With rumbling stomachs and groggy minds they piled onto the dark bus and settled in for the ride.
Elise:
My stomach finally stopped aching after I picked up a lukewarm shwarma doused in European ketchup. I looked out the window at the passing fields filled with tiny yellow buds and as the bus shook and stopped I felt my body lightly knock against the metal interior. My mind wandered between the people shuffling past, my teammates spread throughout the bus, and watching the blue dot on my maps inch closer and closer. We had been on the bus for a matter of hours; the heat had risen as sunlight streamed through the windowpanes. It had become stuffy and uncomfortable as I silently hoped this was worth it. My watch told me it was almost four and our entire day had been spent on something moving. Two more hours, that’s all we had left, two more hours.
Group:
Fresh air. Each woman closed their eyes and took it in as they gladly stepped off the bus their bodies had become accustomed to. They looked toward the edge of the station building and hoped for a taxi.
“Taxi! Taxi!” a white haired man called. He opened his trunk, shook their hands and agreed to take them to their final destination. Grateful for the easy transition they chattered with anticipation. The driver tried to communicate any way that he could as the five of them drove out of town to the famous sight.
Crysahna:
There it was. The only reason I had agreed to this crazy feat in the first place. The Tunnel of Love. As we piled out of the taxi and assured he would wait until we had finished, I looked at my teammates with wide eyes and astonishment at how far we had come. I hoped my hair wasn’t too frizzy as we stepped onto the idyllic tracks. I took in the light breaking through the trees that created the famous arch over the rails. The light and dark patches interchanged as we strolled down the tunnel with flecks of gold casting on each wooden plank. I was exhausted. I could feel the kink balled up in the back of my neck and my hips asking to be cracked, but we were there. We set our bags in a heap and took turns in front of the camera as I waited for my chance to get the picture we all came on this adventure to get.
Group:
They danced back toward the edge of the tunnel. Joy filled their hearts and dread filled their minds as they pondered the distance they had to cover home.
To lighten their minds they called the friends they knew were near and arranged to meet.
“Meet by the large man in the square” They said. The women all pondered whether they would truly know were that was until they turned the corner to a large expanse.
“I think we found the man.” They said looking at an incredibly towering statue situated in what had to be the square. As their eyes grazed the area they focused on familiar details and broke into grins. Frosted tips, sunglasses, mullets…they could only be fellow Racers. The four men at the base of the sculpture perked up as they recognized them in return. Hugs were eagerly given, haircuts were mentioned, makeup was commented on.
The eight of them walked as the men introduced them to the city they had been spending their time in. Genuine conversation over lattes and cappuccinos filled the small window of time that passed faster than they would have liked. And a few of them considered whether it was really worth ending the visit at all, but they did.
They headed back to the station, got on a bus, got on a train, and 29 hours later completed their journey.
Looking back on this adventure day journey it wasn’t the smartest decision we could have made. But our effort to make the tunnel of love a day trip created an adventure we will all look on for many years to come.
