Travels to Dobromel

After three months in America doing fundraising for the new massage program at the internat in Dobromel, I had seven days to rest. The evening of October 16, I boarded a train for L’viv, Ukraine. The next morning, after a peaceful night’s sleep, I departed the train at five AM to begin my search for the bus to Dobromel. I was told to look to the left of the front entrance of the train station.

When I looked, I saw more than ten buses parked in the dark, most with the engines turned off. Each bus had a banner across the top of the windshield stating its origin was L’viv, and which city or village was the final destination. After walking past each one, I was disappointed to find that none had the final destination of Dobromel.

I began my second tour of the buses, this time, looking for a list of stops. I found one, the driver standing outside of his bus. Forgetting that I should speak Ukrainian, I asked what time the bus would begin its travel. He asked me to repeat, but when I did, he only turned away, saying something like, “Who taught you to talk.” I tried again, this time simply asking, “Dobromel?” He replied, “Da, Dobromel”. So, I entered the bus and found a seat for myself, setting my backpack on my lap, my messenger bag beside me, and my green bag of gifts for friends on the last leg of my journey, on the floor.

Have you ever entered the wrong bus for the right destination? Such was my predicament. Sveta, who would be waiting for me at my final destination, told me that Dobromel would be the last stop and that the trip would be 2 hours. When two hours had passed, I began to pay very close attention to the location of each stop. Finally, I asked two women about Dobromel who were standing in the isle; they pack the buses like sardines; they agreed that Dobromel would be soon. My final heads-up that I was in Dobromel was when I saw Sveta standing in the cold waiting for me. I quickly put on my backpack and forced my way through the thinning crowd on the bus …