Friday, 17 August 2012

 

Exploring Kiev - no driving but a lot of walking

 

 

 

 

At breakfast, we chatted with our young hostess. She explained that in Kiev, almost everybody was speaking Russian as their first and preferred language. So there would be no communication problems. Well, at least not from the Ukrainians' side. But how to see the most of Kiev in just one day? The girl at the hotel thought that we would need at least three days to appreciate the most important sights of the city. This might very well be true, but unfortunately, we didn't have three days. The plan was to stroll through the town, gaze at the buildings, have a coffee, feel a bit like a local and just generally soak up the atmosphere of the place.

 

As we would be doing a whole lot of walking today, we skipped the metro and took a taxi to the centre of town. When we got into the car, the cab driver said the ride would be three euros, but when I handed him a 10-euro bill at our destination, he insisted that we had agreed on 6.50 euros and refused to give us the rest of the change. Well, alright, let him keep the money, but he should have been upfront about it.

 

We were armed with a detailed city map, so nothing could go wrong. In fact our map sported some really unique advertisements: "1st Model Agency. The youngest, hottest, sweetest ladies will satisfy your deepest desires." Another offered a "fully undressed, fully body to body soul massage." The V.I.P. massage promised: "Charming lady will present you art the pleasure of touch. All ladies are diploma specialist." It didn't specify what subject the diploma was in, though. For some unfathomable reason, most of the ads announced in big red letters that they had a "Western influenced management". Kinda disconcerting. But be that as it may, we were not looking for a massage and thus were happy to use the map just for its most basic function: finding our way around town.

 

First, we walked through a beautiful park next to the university. A large statue of the famous Ukrainian poet and painter Taras Shevchenko, who untiringly and passionately wrote in favour of an independent Ukrainian nation, greeted us from up high. In his elegant coat the author looked a lot more ordinary and urban than in Kramskoi's portrait. At the foot of the statue, workers were busy repairing some minor flaws in the tiled walkway.

 

Right next to the university stands the majestic cathedral of Saint Vladimir. I love the multicoloured, playful design of Orthodox church buildings and the bright yellow paintwork of this cathedral, shining in unison with the white window sills, the blue roofs and the golden cross reaching up into the pale blue sky was a marvel to behold. Walking on, we came to the opera house, surrounded by beautifully restored 19th-century buildings. The white facades lent the place an almost Mediterranean feel.

 

Then we reached the Golden Gate. No, we had not miraculously teleported to San Francisco, this was a much older place, a remnant of the Medieval fortifications of the city. This ancient city gate was not really "golden" as far as I could see, but rather an old and sturdy stone tower with restored wooden palissades to both sides and a massive iron grille that barred the entrance. A statue of the founder of the fortress, king Yaroslav the Wise, was keeping guard outside. Nowadays, the Golden Gate houses a museum which one can visit, and so we did. The inside was at least as imposing as the outside. Rough unhewn stoneworks and massive ancient columns take you back almost to the time of the Varingians. Nothing can make me happier than a few old stones and a vivid imagination. But then we learnt that all this former glory had only been built in 1982, in commemoration of the 1500th anniversary of the city. The true remnants of the old gate are, it seems, hidden beneath the reconstructed building. Still, we liked the place and the view from its rooftop was well worth the climb.

 

From the legendary times of the Rurikides we were abruptly flung back to the twentieth century of concrete and steel. We were standing in front of the large department store ЦУМ, the Central Universal Store, an iconic relic from Soviet times. It was a rather disappointing "modern" affair, not unlike the 60s uglinesses in my hometown which are, luckily, in the process of being demolished one by one. Still, I wanted to see the TSUM. We walked up to the entrance. It was barred. A closer inspection revealed that the building was closed for renovation. We looked up. A couple of fearless workers were hanging on the facade like Spiderman. What a sight!

 

The ЦУМ was not to be, so we turned to the central square next. The Maidan, which only two years later would be known all over the world for its protests and the eventual coup that ousted the elected president. But in summer 2012, all this was in the distant future and we were left quite unimpressed by the square. Too many people, loads of cheap knick-knack stalls and not-too-appetizing food joints.

 

Still, I was getting hungry. We briefly considered a small restaurant, but the pictures of their dishes did not really appeal to us. There seemed to be only sausages on offer. One picture of a sausage on a plate with ketchup and mustard garnish might be appetising. Two are already a bit much. But this restaurant displayed eight huge photographs of long, blank sausages, each with the obligatory red and yellow accompaniment. "I'm not really hungry," said Sonia. Neither was I.

 

How about a morozhenoe instead? There was an icecream stand right here on Maidan. We each ordered one scoop. The woman put the icecream in a cone, then carefully weighed the cone on some old-fashioned scales. We looked on, puzzled. Finally, she handed us the icecream and stated the price. "That can't be right," Sonia said. I mentally double-checked the conversion rate, which wasn't hard to do as one euro was more or less 10 hryvnia. That would be seven euros for a small icecream! In comparison, the entrance fee to the Golden Gate had just been 1.5 euros. The woman pointed at a price chart. Seemingly, the prices were not per scoop, but per 100 gram, or milligram, or who knew what unit. I also had no idea how much a cone might weigh. But the vendor was getting impatient, the icecream was starting to melt, so I just handed the money over.

 

Our mood improved when we walked past a small bar. Sonia suddenly gave a tiny shriek and pointed at a poster in the window. Our favourite band, Kukryniksy, would be playing at this venue in three weeks! What a pity we couldn't just stay a bit longer. It would have been amazing to see them live. Softly crooning "Mokry asfalt, notch" under my breath, I had a closer look at this Mexican-themed bar. It was called Bochka and looked like the perfect place to have a rest. We entered, had a huge and yummy fajita, gave our tired feet a rest and an hour later were ready to explore some more of the city. Thank you, Alexey, that poster of your band helped us find a great place in Kiev, as if by koldostvo!

 

Saint Sophia's Cathedral, named in honour of Wisdom, is a huge and interesting complex whose foundations go back to the 11th century. With numerous beautiful 1000-year-old wall paintings, it's a UNESCO World Heritage site.

 

Next to the Cathedral, we found the last resting place of the Varingian ruler Vladimir. In 988, he sent his envoys beyond the four corners of his realm to assess the strengths and weaknesses of the neighbouring countries. Impressed by the wealth of Constantinople, he decided to get himself baptised in the Orthodox faith and marry the sister of the Byzantine Emperor. It was quite a shrewd bit of realpolitik and the move eventually earned him, like so many other Christian rulers, both the title "The Great" and "Saint". Having forced the new religion on his subjects, he became the first Patriarch of Kiev. Unfortunately for him, nowadays the Patriarchy of Kiev is subject to the Patriarchy of Moscow and when the former wanted to bury Vladimir's remains in the newly-built Saint Sophia's Cathedral in 1995, the Patriarch of Moscow objected. Therefore, Saint Vladimir the Great has now found a temporary last resting place in front of the Cathedral, under the pavement. A strong and intriguing ruler who led a fascinating life in interesting times.

 

Next to the Cathedral there is a large square with a monument to the Cossacks, the headstrong and fiercely independent people of the Southern Russian steppes. On the other side of the street, the glass monstrosity of the Hyatt hotel beckoned for well-heeled customers. Suddenly, we noticed a huge white stretch-limousine with blacked-out windows parked behind a small family car. I'd only ever once seen such a limo, at nighttime on a seedy street corner in West Hollywood in the early 1990s. Actually, we spotted quite a few uber-expensive poseur cars on the streets of Kiev. They were hard to overlook what with the loud stepping on the gas in neutral gear, the honking and reckless cruising through the traffic. The drivers did not come across as people I'd like to meet.

 

Walking on, we reached Saint Michael's monastery. Beautiful marble statues of Cyrill and Method as well as Olga, the mother of Vladimir the Great. In the inner courtyard, we noticed that the sky had turned decidedly grey and cloudy. Not good. We cut the visit of the monastery short and headed back out into the street. By now we were starting to get an overdose of religious buildings anyway. Where was the next coffee house?

 

One minute later, the heavens opened and bestowed a generous downpour on us. We ran to the nearest building, a church again, and sought shelter inside, along with several other tourists. But it was really cold inside and we were drenched. As one cannot get wetter than wet, we decided to ignore the rain and enjoy the view outside. Saint Andrew's Church is located on the edge of a hill running steeply down into a valley. Beneath us, a cobblestoned street seemed to sport cafés and art galleries. Or so it looked from up here. It seemed unwise to stand in such a prominent place with thunder and lightning playing in the sky, so we headed down Saint Andrew's Descent. Legend has it that the apostle Andrew, passing by this spot on his way from Jerusalem to Rome, prophesied that in the future a large city would grow here. He was not wrong, even though his navigation skills seem to leave much to be desired. Most detours don't take you half across Europe, but maybe he just liked to travel.

 

We half run, half slipped down the wet cobblestones, past tiny art shops, most of them closed. Almost at the bottom of Saint Andrew's Descent, we finally found a coffee house. A wonderfully warm and cosy place whose main attraction was in fact not coffee, but a much more delicious beverage: it was the Lvivska Maisterna Chocoladu, the Lviv Handmade Chocolate Shop. Overjoyed to be out of the rain, we also bought a cute little set with a hot chocolate jug.

 

An hour later, the rain had stopped and we were ready to face Kiev once more. By now my feet were hurting quite a bit. I tried to ignore the blisters and just enjoy the sights, but one large shopping street is very much like any other all around the world, so after another hour we decided to call it a day. We found a taxi stand and Sonia ran along to talk to the cabbie while I slowly limped behind. My sister explained where we wanted to go and he nodded, naming his price. Then he saw me, barely able to take another step. As if by miracle, the price went up. "He wants 15 euros," Sonia said. I looked at him. He looked back, impassively. You don't really have a choice, the look said, it's not like you will be walking back. Unfortunately for me, that assessment was true. Unfortunately for him, he did not know me. I would crawl on my hands and knees before I let myself be taken advantage of once more. "Where is the next metro station," I asked Sonia. "Your feet are bleeding," my sister protested, "let's just give him what he wants." But it wasn't even about the money. It was a question of honour, of decency. I grabbed our massage-touting map. "There, Maidan station, that's not too far." What's a kilometer when you're running on adrenaline. "But to the hotel it will be at least another two kilometers from the end station," Sonia pointed out. Who cared. Are you coming?

 

We somehow made it to the station. At the vending machines, we tried to figure out what buttons to push. They seemed to want the equivalent of 20 cents for one ticket. That couldn't be right, could it? Better ask a local. Sonia talked to a young woman who was more than happy to help. Yes, for two hryvnia you could take the metro to any station you wanted. She waited until we had our tickets and we took the metro together, chatting. She would be getting out at the same stop as us. We gave her our home address and told her, if she ever came to Luxembourg, she had to give us a call, обязательно.

 

We got out at Demiivska station. The sun came out for a wonderful sunset and my feet felt much better. The half hour on foot to our hotel was quiet and relaxing, a perfect ending to an eventful day aplenty with new impressions. The next day, we would be on the road again, this time heading West, homeward bound.