kyiv me up, baby!

Decided to skip forward a bit, and omit mention of the last two days of my road trip (which ended safe and sound in Lviv, btw). That's mainly because there are other adventures afoot, and I haven't had time to sit down and write about everything.

Anyway ... most of you know that I've struggled to come to terms with life in western Ukraine. There have been some really great times (e.g. hanging out with my fabulous colleagues and friends at the International House Language School, where I used to work), times when I've wanted to throw grenades at lunatic drivers who've nearly run me over or shopkeepers who've hated on me for no reason, and long grey periods in between of "Yep, well, this is all ok I guess, but I clearly just don't belong here."

SLEEPY MOUNTAIN VILLAGE KINDA VIBE

Slavs'ko, Ukraine, 21.05.2013

Then in May, Yuliya, Timur and I moved up into the Carpathians and spent a month living in a small town / oversized village called Slavs'ko. As with any urban-to-rural move, being up there showed me a different side of the country. It definitely softened my opinion of Ukraine, because life in Slavs'ko was basically pleasant and relaxing, with fresh mountain air and a sleepy, unhurried vibe. And while it would be going slightly too far to say that people up there are 'nice', they're at least not rude, belligerent and deliberately obstructive. So stark was the difference that I started to wonder if my problem was actually with the high proportion of cranky people in suburban Lviv*, rather than with Ukraine as a whole.

Three months later, after an enjoyable but exhausting summer stint in Finland, I now find myself waiting for a Turkish visa in Kyiv – i.e., at the opposite end of Ukraine's urban-rural continuum.

When I found out that I'd have to come here, my overriding thought was "Oh no! There goes my newfound goodwill towards Ukraine." I envisioned the city as a kind of mini-Moscow, full of self-absorbed shiny people rushing about madly, determined to knock me over either

a) in the Metro underpass, or
b) in their ridiculous shiny supersized cars.

Having now been here for a week, I can happily report that I was completely wrong. I love Kyiv! Contrary to all expectations, it turns out to be a vibrant, friendly and (relatively) cosmopolitan capital, thoroughly deserving of one of those "Gosh, I am SO impressed!" rants that I embark upon from time to time. So now I'm going to write one :-)

My week started off in slightly shaky fashion, because after the first of many visits to the Turkish Embassy, I decided to go and see the Kyiv Pechersk-Lavra monastery. This had been recommended to me by several people, mainly due to the underground cave there lined with the skeletons of dead monks. Apparently, for fans of the strange and macabre, it's kind of a must-see.

Of course, rows of dead monks lining cave walls is not something I can pass up easily, but it turned out to be a lot less inspiring and a lot more annoying than I'd expected. Still, it wasn't a total waste; being a fan of the flying saucer fixation that seems to have gripped Soviet architects during the 1970s and 80s**, I did enjoy my encounter with this concrete mothership, which was getting ready for lift-off not far from my hotel and on the way to the monastery.

(Btw, it turns out to be the Ukrainian Institute of Scientific and Technological R& D, but I didn't know that until I checked afterwards on the internet. Nowadays it seems to host the occasional yoga class, but that's about all.)

When I got to Pechersk-Lavra, though, there were no holy bones to be seen; the caves had closed for the day, and I would have to come back. What I saw instead was an orgy of commercialism. I mean, I remember my dad fulminating about the gift shops inside cathedrals when we did our 'Big Europe tour' back in the day, and I kind of agreed with him. But this was just on a whole other level. Leading down to the cave entrance, for example, was a long tunnel full of semi-official monastery merchandise, on sale at exorbitant prices. I bought some nice-smelling soap for Yuliya, and nearly fell over when they charged me 103 hryvnia (about 13 dollars) for it! They explained, though, that it had been blessed by the monks ... so, y'know, obviously it's gonna get you a lot closer to heaven than just normal soap would. That makes sense, right?

I was still recovering from that little shock, and from seeing tons of water sprayed onto the lavish monastery gardens with a high-tech sprinkler system that Lord Yanukovych Himself would probably struggle to afford, when I came across what I can only describe as 'Holy Honey Alley'. Not a porn actor's euphemism for a fetishistic sex act, but rather a whole row of honey sellers offering blessed bee products, from propolis to honey wine and beeswax candles. And again, the prices were commensurate with the fact that the Lord God Almighty had blessed these little bees in person.

Same with the chocolates at the confectionary stall. Appalling.

And then there was this, outside the gates of the Pechersk-Lavra complex. I mean, really! Aside from making vomit sounds, what can you really say about the 'Angel Factory'?

(Incidentally, the correct answer is: "Nothing. Just make more vomit sounds.")

So yeah ... one full day into my Kyiv visit, I was feeling underwhelmed. But things vastly improved after that, to the point where I now find myself feeling rather melancholic about leaving tomorrow. I want more Kyiv, dammit!

One of the things I like so much about the capital is its street art. There are certain playful and unorthodox edges to it which other Ukrainian cities lack, and which seem to reflect the character of Kyivans themselves.

To try and explain that: I've periodically complained that all the street art in Lviv (supposedly an 'arty' city, if you listen to its residents) is dreary, sombre statuary, commemorating historical figures of the region with no hint of imagination or flair. I mean, historical statuary is fine, but if they're so keen to join 'Europe' over there, there should be room in the streets for less deadly serious stuff. Or at least, they should be able to cope with something a bit less standoffish and a bit more more personal in style.

This ballerina sculpture stands on in an inner city back street in Kyiv, immortalising a former resident and famous dancer who lived in the house behind. It (I want to say "she") is quite small, and her colours match those of the street so well that you can easily miss her. But having seen her once, she brings the street corner to life and adds an element of intrigue: as you look at her facial features, you wonder "Who was this woman? Why that expression? What kind of person was she?" and so on. And see, you won't find anything like that in Lviv or Odessa. It's definitely a Kyiv thing.

Likewise the 'Yozh Monument', celebrating the 1975 animated cartoon Hedgehog in The Fog (yozh being the Russian word for "hedgehog"). I actually love the cartoon – written for kids, and yet artful, shadowy and spooky, with a dreamlike orchestral score and beautiful backdrops, it's a true classic of the era; a little piece of Soviet entertainment history, you might say. The avi file sits on my computer desktop, and I watch it maybe once every year or two when the mood hits me. So of course I had to find the monument. I expected something larger – but here again, Kyiv doesn't always go for 'grand'. For such a big, sprawling city, the public spaces and the things you find in them have a surprisingly intimate feeling.

(You can watch 'Hedgehog in The Fog' with English subtitles here.)

Even Kyiv's street stalls emphasise the playful, not-taking-itself-too-seriously atmosphere of the capital. Outside metro stations and in city parks, you can find coffee and news stands with names like Kapitalist, and in recent times 'coffee snails' like this one have proliferated.

The snails do a pretty decent takeaway cappuccino (hard to find in other Ukrainian cities, where the whole takeaway concept often seems beyond the grasp of local businesses), and add an extra splash of colour and confection to a city which seems to enjoy both. If you're after something a bit stronger, they'll also serve you a mojito – something which seems to be an obsession among Kyivans. You can buy mojito almost anywhere here (even KFC has a non-alcoholic version), or just purchase some fresh mint in a metro underpass and make your own at home. I approve :-)

A little way out from dead centre, you discover what happens when Kyiv does decide to go grand and monumental. Not far from the parliament there's an extremely odd building called The House of Chimeras, perched atop a hill and draped with a devil's regiment of gargoyles and gothic monstrosities, along with a few fearsome real-world creatures like the crocodile guarding the front door.

Walking around the outside, you're left with the impression of a legion of mythical and/or über-primitive creatures writhing on the rooftops, from which they will eventually launch a murderous assault on the city. But in the meantime, there are some nice water features in the front garden, so summer visitors can enjoy the cool of the water spray while they await their inevitable enslavement to the beast hordes. It really is bizarre.

And then, finally, you get onto Khreshchatik street and Kyiv's Maidan Nezalezhnisti - the 'Square of Independence'.

This huge open area was the site of 2004's Orange Revolution, and after President Viktor Yanukovych was forced to admit election fraud and step down, his successor Viktor Yuschenko significantly took the presidential oath outside, in front of the crowds on the Maidan. But even before that, it was traditionally a venue for public protest and political gatherings.

In the early 1990s there were protests here against President Leonid Kuchma. The authorities cleverly chose that moment to begin construction on the huge glass dome in the middle of the square, sealing off most of the area with barricades – and thus leaving the protestors nowhere to stand. But it didn't keep them away for long, and 'to meet on the Maidan' has acquired a double meaning in Kyiv: it can signify just an everyday social meeting, but it can also mean 'to discuss and organise politically, so as to make your voice heard'. The square, in other words, symbolises the role of the citizenry in politics. If Eastern Europe had an Occupy Movement, this would certainly be an appropriate choice for 'Occupy HQ'.

The Maidan straddles both sides of Khreshchatik street. On one side you've got six avenues radiating out from the square, with a neoclassical building on each corner forming the dramatic ensemble you can see above, and the dome out in front. On the other side, there's the Hotel Ukraina, a bunch of fountains depicting Ukrainian heroes (which kids come to swim in during the summer), and an enormous column, at the top of which stands the figure of the Archangel Michael.

When you stay in Kyiv as a tourist, you find yourself on Maidan Nezalezhnisti quite a lot. But my most memorable visit was the day I 'met on the Maidan' with a friend called Oksana, a native Kyivan. She told me a little secret about her home town: namely, that it's actually Gotham City, and that the Archangel is its 'Batman'. Knowing this, some locals reason that Kyiv/Gotham is invulnerable to attack, because it has a super hero protecting it.

These are the things you really need to know about the places you visit :-)

As impressive as the Maidan is, however, the back streets of Central Kyiv are just as enjoyable to explore. Behind a huge ring-shaped market that comes off Khreshchatik, you find this intriguing piece of street art, advertising the entrance to the Pinchuk Art Centre. (Note the 'sushi' sign in the top right-hand corner, and the company mascot with the raw fish hairstyle.)

Pinchuk is currently hosting an exhibition of Chinese Contemporary Art, which includes an incredible installation called '100 trees'. It is more or less what it sounds like – a room full of gnarled, ancient tree stumps which you walk through, while looking at black & white portraits of ordinary Chinese citizens around the walls. And it's stunning. (No cameras allowed, unfortunately.)

A bit further out, you get gems like this: a building maintained by the National Union of Ukrainian Theatre Artists, and simply signposted as "House of Actor". (Why spoil the mystery with a ton of useless detail, eh?) The huge facade sits on a quiet street, a few doors down from a traditional Uzbek chaikhana (tea house), looking almost as dilapidated – and almost as cosy and enticing – as the real deal in Uzbekistan. This is definitely a street that I could live on!



Possibly my favourite area of the city, though, is the amazing Peysazhna Alleja ('landscape alley'). This is a community arts project in the real sense: it turned a decrepit neighbourhood into an ocean of colour, and the local residents were so keen to see this happen that they collected part of the money for it themselves. Now they have the best back yard in Kyiv!

The alley is constructed over remains of Kyiv's medieval ramparts, which (according to some) had been zoned by the council as a site for building drab government offices. (As if Ukraine needs more of those!) Some local artists got there first, however, creating the beginnings of an eccentric sculpture park that has since been greatly extended.

As you walk into the alleja, you notice a change. Little fat birds are sitting atop high fences, watching over extensive playground areas. Further on, you have sculptures of feral-looking children balancing on piles of pillows, beckoning to passers-by.

As kids play on Alice in Wonderland-themed slides and climbing equipment (topped by a somewhat scary-looking Cheshire Cat, adults sit and relax on benches that are artworks in themselves. Some reference the area's medieval heritage; others the fact that this was a haunt for the homeless before it got its makeover; and others are just cute and silly attempts to liven up the neighbourhood in general.

While I was walking around this giant confection, it occurred to me that in its own way, Peysazhna is just as much a monument to the independence of the Ukrainian spirit as the Maidan is. The government is fully behind it now, and in fact according to TripAdvisor, it's become Kyiv's third largest attraction after the monasteries and so on. But at the start, it was just a locals' dream of creating a new kind of place to live in, spurred on by a few crazy artists with a vision.

The fact that this kind of vision was brought to fruition in a city like Kyiv seems to me quite inspiring. Kyiv drags an immense amount of historical weight around with it, being the home of the Kyivan Rus, acknowledged ancestors of all Russian slavs. It's also home to one branch of the Orthodox Church, it's been an important trading post since antiquity, and of course, it's the capital of mainland Europe's largest country. So it would be easy to turn this city into a tortuously dry, pompous and preachy monument to itself, such as you find in certain other capitals of ex-Soviet republics.

But instead, here we have a bunch of people who just decided to brighten up their community regardless of what the authorities said, and the result: a huge success :-)

So anyway, that was my week in the Ukrainian capital. Or at least, those were some of the things I did when not going backwards and forwards between the hotel and the Turkish Embassy, dotting 'i's and crossing 't's on a working visa application.

I now have one less free page in my passport, occupied by a brand new visa for the Republic of Turkey – so my work here is done. I'm heading back to Lviv for a few days to be with the family, before jetting off on a whole new adventure.

Really gonna miss this place, though. I hope to be back!


* I know some truly wonderful people in Lviv, and every time I say something negative about their city, I feel extremely guilty. But sadly, the overall atmosphere in Lviv is definitely a cranky one, and I'd say roughly half of the population participate in making it so. They're cranky at the rest of Ukraine for not being 'Ukrainian enough'; they're cranky at Russia on account of a bunch of historical stuff that hasn't been effectively dealt with in the public sphere; they're cranky with foreigners for being an inconvenience and not knowing their language; and they're cranky with each other just for, I d'know, existing. It's a shame, because the city has potential to be fantastic ... and as I said, I feel bad for saying all this stuff. But it's regrettably true :-(  

** You can see other 'Soviet flying saucers' here and here. I really recommend it – they're awesome!