Ukrainian roads, the Carpathians and homemade wine

After sharing vodka and beers in Lviv with a bunch of Couchsurfers and their friends — and demonstrating that Spaniards can hold their own — we headed for the Carpathian Mountains.

One of the drivers who picked us up was dressed as a German soldier, on his way to a forest to take part in an airsoft battle with some mates. Once we were well clear of any towns, he offered to let us try his submachine gun.

Hitchhiking in Ukraine took time, but we livened up the waits with swigs of Ukrainian vodka and impromptu picnics on the roadside verges.

We eventually reached Mukachevo. Visited the castle, kept on drinking, and then headed to Volovets for some hiking in the Carpathians.

Getting there was an adventure in itself: a van took us the last 10 kilometres in the back, wedged between concrete blocks with nowhere to brace ourselves. Six people crammed in, trying to stay upright on mountain roads. Possibly dangerous, definitely an experience.

We went back to Mukachevo by train, which we used as an opportunity to play some drinking games. Apparently this is not a common activity on Ukrainian trains — the entire carriage watched us as if we had monkeys on our faces.

After several days in Ukraine there was one thing we'd still not managed: tasting the Ukrainian homemade wine. We kept seeing people selling it from roadside stalls, but since we were hitchhiking it didn't seem right to ask drivers to pull over so we could buy wine.

On our last day in Ukraine we made it a mission. Honestly, it took us a ridiculous amount of wandering around, but we got there in the end.

You can find several varieties: sweet red, dry red and white. Being homemade, they varied wildly from bottle to bottle, but the common thread was high alcohol and sweetness.

Once we started, we couldn't stop. Without quite getting drunk, I'll admit we were both pleasantly merry by the time we'd finished our litres of wine — and kept that glow the whole way to Budapest.

The border guard who checked us through didn't bat an eyelid at the wine — just a dry "enjoy it." No need to tell us twice, mate. Once across into Hungary we hitchhiked in a state of semi-undress. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

Any other homemade wines you'd recommend?